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DrBill
01-11-2007, 01:47 AM
The walnut antlers above behind his head,
a crown without dominion to defy
a brain disease that sapped his sense, misled
his sloping bulk from colder, broader sky
and slowly gnawed him numb and nearly blind:
a trotting quarry yapping dogs could chase
in neighbor woods and marsh so undefined
he sniffed no wind of green, unhounded space.

A game warden aimed, let crack a flash—
the walnut crown of antlers sank like stone
as knees unlocked, and with a hulking crash
the moose fell in a heap of hide on bone,
and inward fell, as if in spacious sheen,
of stately, antlered forests, bursting green.

Arania
01-15-2007, 11:22 PM
I like this very much. It reminds me of the traditional English poets. Great work.