Her Song of the Man
“Come, eat of my bread, and drink
of the wine which I have mingled.”
—The voice of Wisdom
speaking in Proverbs IX:5
i
Dawn man, awakened by the singing tide
of light by the river, the first
I saw of you: your shadow
on the surface
mingled with the dipping single shadow of all
the cedars. Your shape
flowed blue
as a flame in darkness
’till the splintering sun
pushed through mountains to fire
your hair, and your body
became a torrent of light
on the still-dark border of the driving stream.
ii
Under the risen sun
you heaved your net, a swollen
silver muscle
of struggling fish. You thrust
in your hand: the glittering
mass knotted and slid a sigh
into the air—the shifting of scaled flank
upon flank.
With a flint you split the snakesoft belly
of the largest
fish,
laid its carcass
upon the rock
and sang
to the morning,
“Make me strong!”