423b2e
423b2e

4.25.2013

national poetry month - 3




Dream of the Huntress

It is always the same:
she is standing over me

in the forest clearing,
a dab of blood on her cheek

from a rabbit or a deer.
I am aware of nothing

but my mutinous flesh,
and the traps of desire

sent to test it—
her bare arms, bare

shoulders, her loosened hair,
the hard, high breasts,

and under a belt
of knives and fish-lures,

her undressed wound.
Every night the same:

the slashed fetlock,
the buckling under;

I wake in her body
broken, like a gun.

~ by Robin Robertson
xxx

14 comments:

goatman said...

When you said "post a poem a day for a month" I thought : girl is swimming in the deep end of the pool again. Thought you would be writing them . . . whew . . .

But for those of us who need poetry, maybe it should be national poetry life (have read that 70 percent of Iranians consider themselves poets).

I don't like this one. Reluctance to kill should not be only a mans objective. I know, I know: metaphor, metaphor; I hate metaphor but I guess we are stuck with it.

Jerry E Beuterbaugh said...

She could skin my antelope anytime she likes!

red dirt girl said...

Hahahaaa ... I haven't had a 'poem a day' to write in years! But I applaud your apparent, ummm, faith in me ??

Hmmm....okay so the hunting metaphor doesn't work for you. But you know it's all about the male/female game here, right??!

Are you a vegetarian by any chance?

xxx

red dirt girl said...

I think the photographer wrote she was a thirteen year old girl from Alabama on a safari hunt in Africa .....I'd say wait 5 years ??

xxx

Adullamite said...

Murdering thug!
Shoot all hunters.

soubriquet said...

Metaphorically speaking, I saw it not about killing, but sexual conquest.

Here's an olde english folk son, on aspects of hunting...

On the 14th of May, at the dawn of the day
With me gun on me shoulder to the woods I did stray
In search of some game, if the weather prove fair
To see can I get a shot at the bonny black hare

I met a young girl there with her face as a rose
And her skin was as fair as the lily that grows
I says, My fair maid, why ramble you so
Can you tell me where the bonny black hare do go

The answer she gave me, O, the answer was no
But under me apron they say it do go
And if you'll not deceive me, I vow and declare
We'll both go together to hunt the bonny black hare

I laid this girl down with her face to the sky
I took out me ramrod, me bullets likewise
Saying, Wrap your legs round me, dig in with your heels
For the closer we get, O, the better it feels

The birds, they were singing in the bushes and trees
And the song that they sang was, She's easy to please
I felt her heart quiver and I knew what I'd done
Says I, Have you had enough of me old sporting gun

The answer she gave me, O, the answer was nay
It's not often young sportsmen like you come this way
And if your powder is good and your bullets are fair
Why don't you keep firing at the bonny black hare

Oh, me powder is wet and me bullets all spent
And me gun I can't fire, for it's choked at the vent
But I'll be back in the morning, and if you are still here
We'll both go together to hunt the bonny black hare

bulletholes said...

I like this poem. I'd like to be taken a shot at, wind up in a snare. Just point the way, I'll step right in it, i'm easy prey these days.
I was supposed to write a poem a month and I did the first three, but April has left me with nothing.

goatman said...


"Slashed fetlock:" is enough to ruin my day. "Thanks for nothing" as me old mother used to say.
No vegan, but tending == probably too late.

red dirt girl said...

Adullamite!!!

Who slaughters the cows you eat??? or are you claiming vegan status as well??

xxx

red dirt girl said...

Hahahaaa, Soubriquet!
We are definitely thinking along the same lines, here.
You Brits are sooo inherently naughty.
xxx

red dirt girl said...

Hmmmm goatman.
I can see how this image bothers you.
In some ways the poem is like Fish Camp from a man's point of view.

xxx

red dirt girl said...

Hi cowboy !!
Easy prey, eh ???
It sounds like you've stepped into someone's snare.
I hate seeing your heart get mangled.

xxx

Lee said...

I'm with goatman ...I shudder at the thought of a hunter's gun.

red dirt girl said...

Possibly the poet chose the hunter's gun metaphor deliberately - so that you WOULD shudder at the thought .......??!

xxx