by Belden Johnson
tonight's my time to guard the garden.
I spread my blankets out beneath the corn,
begin to light my lantern when I hear:
hooves stamping earth with double
see the bison against the sickle moon hurtling
I bolt for the gate like a deer.
the bison crashes thru the peas,
heads me off by the squash,
prances beside me now like pegasus.
his coat is shaggy, dusty,
it dances with starlight, he lacks his right
I gasp as I realize he is winking
like satan in eden
and I am staring into my own eyes.
From a book of poems entitled SNAKE BLOSSOMS (Berkeley Poet's Press, 1976)
This article appeared in the Spring 1998 IPA Newsletter.
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