poem 133 - let me do the honor
I am set upon shooting the Horned God Cernunnos
and mounting his head on my wall
I have chosen a Tikka rifle chambered in 30-06
With which to strike the divine
The Green Knight Gawain kissed my forehead this morning as I rose from my lean-to
I faced the morning chill and dressed to find my mark
Cut by brambles and bit by black flies I sat on low dark hills all day
Before I saw him
A beast deformed beyond measure
A bronze inflation of testosterone lumbered red faced and puffing, pincushioned
His liver bloat frame acupunctured
With one thousand syringes
He spoke to the earth in commanding tones
And caged his spray tan faeries
I shot the beast and lay him down with a prayer and thanks
I split the ballooned pectorals to eat the heart of Cernunnos
A shriveled ashen thing, I winced and consumed
And left the chemical meat to rot all winter
Until yawning from the twisted bone and salted ferns
A boy with the horns of a stag
Wet with afterbirth splashing in the creek