"Driving the Beast" by Christopher Bakken

View this email on a browser Forward to a friend July 19, 2017   Driving the Beast   Christopher Bakken

In the thick brush they spend the hottest part of the day,              soaking their hooves in the trickle of mountain water              the ravine hoards on behalf of the oleander.              You slung your gun across your back in order to heave              a huge grey stone over the edge, so it rolled, then leaped              and crashed below. This is what it took to break the shade,              to drive the beast, not to mention a thrumming of wings              into the sky, a wild confetti of frantic grouse,              but we had slugs, not shot, and weren't after their small meat,              but the huge ram's, whose rack you'd seen last spring, and whose stench              now parted air, that scat-caked, rut-ripe perfume of beast.              Watch now, he runs, you said, launching another boulder,              then out it sprang through a gap in some pine, brown and black              with spiraled horns impossibly agile for its size.              But, yes, he fell with one shot, already an idea              of meat for fire by the time we'd scrambled through the scree.              And that was all. No, you were careful, even tender,              with the knife-work, slitting the body wide with one stroke              then with your hands lifting entire the miraculous              liver and heart, emptying the beast on the mountain.              Later, it rained, knocking dust off the patio stones.              Small frogs returned from abroad to sing in the stream beds.              We sat and drank. The beast talked to its rope in the tree.              And then you spoke: no more, you said, enough with mourning,              then rose to turn our guts, already searing on the fire.            Copyright © 2017 Christopher Bakken. Used with permission of the author. About This Poem   "The hunt described here took place on a remote Greek island, where all events ring with elemental significance, and where a violent encounter with the landscape is more likely to break the deepest things open. My poem works in conversation with another poem of unforeseen discovery: Robert Frost's 'The Most of It.' In 'Driving the Beast,' I acknowledge the debt by incorporating Frost's own ironic monosyllables (his poem ends: 'and that was all'). I think that line also led me to employ the 4/9 syllabic pattern, which now sends my poem tumbling down the page." —Christopher Bakken   Christopher Bakken is the author of Eternity & Oranges (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2016). He directs writing workshops in Thessaloniki and Thasos, Greece, and teaches at Allegheny College in Meadville, Pennsylvania.   Photo credit: Kelly Gorney Poetry by Bakken   Eternity & Oranges (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2016) "Michael's Wine" by Sandra Alcosser "A Greek Island" by Edward Hirsch "Horse's Adventure" by Jason Bredle Help Support Poem-a-Day   If you value Poem-a-Day, please consider a monthly donation or one-time gift to help make it possible. Poem-a-Day is the only digital series publishing new, previously unpublished work by today's poets each weekday morning. The free series, which also features a curated selection of classic poems on weekends, reaches 450,000+ readers daily. Thank you! Thanks for being a part of the Academy of American Poets community. To learn about other programs, including National Poetry Month, Poem in Your Pocket Day, the annual Poets Forum, and more, visit Poets.org.   You are receiving this e-mail because you elected to subscribe to our mailing list. If you would like to unsubscribe, please click here.   © Academy of American Poets 75 Maiden Lane, Suite 901, New York, NY 10038