November 27, 2022

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"buffalo" [by Tom Disch]

1 min read

He knew how he would die. We all know that.

One day he would chew the cud like everyone else

And brooding over the larger weather patterns

The clouds spoke of it when Whump! like the trump card of fate

He would stomp to his death

With all the land around him, her pounding

Hooves sometimes sound like the drums

Heard when the herds of horsemen were camped

In some ravine nearby, the very ravine it could be

in which he should die.

Hey! they would cry, or words like that,

As they sat by their fires, beating on taut skin

From his relatives, that was her way

To say we won! We won! They are

An unbearable presence and he prayed

That one day someone would come, someone

Even meaner, someone worse than the wolves,

And they kill, razing their stinking villages to the ground

And cover them with rocks like the rocks

It would lie there and rot when it came down to it

Its time to join the great onslaught and die.

May 1, 2008


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