Boy Heroes

Mike & I were great hunters,
cheap shamans & men of the forest
more or less.
On the day of our late summer bear hunt
we carried the ritual spear
a foot of old brown steel
on a six foot shaft of ash
once & a half our height
decorated so fiercely
with horsehair, leather strips & red clay beads.
With my 1820 cavalry saber
& his borrowed German footman's sword
two fresh-cut, wood-tip spears
lunch, & his mother's favorite kitchen knife
we set out between morning & afternoon
sounding like misplaced surf
in the leaves.

We strode in arrogant pride
thru forests we did not own
knocking dead trees to earth
& pelting down grassy hills
to show our strength.
We shouted & howled
to let the animals know we were coming
or in camaraderie with wolves long moved on
with whom we claimed a kind
of distant kinship.

In the evening, dusk
we returned with stories
but no skins, bones or meat.
Around the fire
my brother believed us
as we told him how we had caught & killed
every critter in the forest
but how we had talked with their spirits
& they were lonely, & crying
& so we sd the words we knew
to bring them back to life.