Comanches

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.