Comanches

Daniel G. Hoffman

DANIEL HOFFMAN

        DANIEL HOFFMAN

            COMANCHES

I read this once: how the Comanche,
Weak after long fasting, felt a slow
Trembling shake the earth-the buffalo!-

And raced his pony barebacked toward the herd.
That morning not a brave in camp could gird
Himself with strength to bend the stout bowstem,

Yet with bursting arms he twangs his arrow
Deep in the bison's heart. Comanches know
The Great Spirit, when it possesses them.

And now the poet, half a savage bound
By the hungers of his tribe, paces his swift
Foray across a desolate hunting-ground

In hopes to run to earth a fleeting creature
And, with the unpremeditated gift
Of spirit, seize imagination's meat.