Monday, October 06, 2008

Taking the bull by the horns


When he approaches, it’s best to meet him head on,

and grabbing the horns, force that mighty head

to bow low before you, putting all your upper body strength

into the struggle. If you’ve found the right grasp,

the one from above, the horns beneath your palms,

it will feel as if you’re gripping two huge vertical handles,

pushing on them hard, enclosing them in fists

instead of pulling them towards you to open the stubborn cupboard

or gate or missile silo doors. You might be lifted

a few feet into the air. You might be shaken

side to side, horribly. In the blurry distance

there could be screaming crowds, but more likely

just a fence and butterfly weed and more pasture,

a dilapidated barn with no one working beside it,

so your struggle will be solely your own,

your panting, your screaming, the bull’s bellowing

only heard and felt by you. The secret is to cling,

as the cliché goes, “for dear life” until

the creature is nearly exhausted, unable

to get up from his knees or belly or from his side,

to try and chase you to the edge of the known universe

as he did before, charging out of what now seems nowhere,

because he is of Earth and Death and your enemies’ wishes,

and misjudged your resolve and could not bring you down.
Dick Allen

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