On “Riot”,sculpture by
Deborah Butterfield
Riot
In the riotous coming together of you,
no horseflesh, but old Texaco station “T”;
nor Texas tea nor oat nor hay burned
in the transport of spirit
from salvage yard of tortured steel
to bluegrass of Elysian field.
What god is this, or goddess,
that can create from tornado twisted tumult
and with torch wielded, weld
this elemental equine?
What wand is waved to bring alive
this alloy, so brave and fairly fused?
Of what steely something
can bridle be built
to control the manner of this mare ?
Of what miracle stuff, the harness
that can contain the energy
breathing
in this red riot?
Contain her not, I ask, lest
mere metal she become, and joyless junk.
- Ralph Murre
appeared in WFOP Museletter
1 comment:
Your range as a poet is amazing,Ralph. Shows the virtue of the blog form: through it you get to see so much more of the poet's mind than when their work is being picked through and selected by know-nothing editors (like me!)
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