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Tuesday, March 23, 2010



The man was tired from the hunt,
He ran furiously all day
Even his dogs now welcomed the rest.

He had not caught a thing,
And his family expected bounty upon his return.

He stopped at a grove for the shade circling the pond.
He was disappointed with himself, piqued,
Wondered how he failed, that he had no game,
And he sat half-asleep,
Plucking single blades of grass,
He whiled the time to restore his breath.

The splash, the Naiad, she startled him,
When he focused he saw her green helmet, and then
He spied two more, this one’s sister divinities.
They must have joined her to preside over the water,
He thought, and he heard their laughter.
And in the distance lips running over reeds,
A well-piped tune, the wonder began to overcome him.

And at once he witnessed radiance, bright,
Direct on the other side of the pond, and
When he looked he saw maidens at the bath, who,
With pail after pail of water showered a naked woman,
And they had released her hair,
And it went way down below her shoulders.

The air carried a soft scent of rose.

Not in long-chewed swallows, but in full gulps
His eyes devoured the meal.

In a fantasy run of his hands,
He tore at the meat of the meal.
He saw upon the table tankards tumble over
And all kinds of fruit and bowls packed with ice,
They were smashed to the ground.

His feet wildly taped to the airy music.

And in that nosegay of the splashing
That came from the pool, he nestled his smell.

He paid no heed to his hounds,
He did not notice that their slumber turned to ferocity.

Her anger amounted to a slight look askance;
It was a dark turn of her eyes.

He first learned what would be his experience,
After the dogs had bit; and his dying,
The agony of that moment when his flesh was torn,
And he had been transformed into beast with horns
To be eaten alive, all his cries, his harrowing screams
Fell into the harmonies of the goddess at her bath.

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