Now death—
now death comes.
Teeth bared,
the beast rushes at the shortness
of my breath
bent on the feast.
But I stared you down,
you damned coward!
This once I stand my ground.
My anger rises, rips and tears;
like Samuel,
eyes blazing
streaked with blood,
I grab the sword from Saul's
impotent hand
and slide the blade around
their silent gaze
to Amalek—
arm and leg and lung,
hacked and separated,
disassembled.
Still,
this boast itself grows old
and I give way—
wound and buried to tears
taunting my frivolous triumph
until the stones roll back;
seed to grain,
shade to light,
I see him at my door's
circumference,
and me unbound
by his call,
his life,
the all in all.
4/23/87