Saturday, July 9, 2011
We started pumping iron on the porch
The summer that our river burst its banks.
He stood in the driveway with his shirt off
Glistening like a sword drawn from the sea,
Shouting, I am strong now. What have you left
To offer, old man, before I slay you?
Eye-to-eye we fought to keep our balance
Two strangers astride the Leviathan
Each one thrilled and yet terrified. It was
Blood-lust and it was hubris that tossed us
Until we washed up on our backs, arms raised
And flexed and raised again without talking.
Something’s blocking the sun, I said at last.
Your pride, he spat. No, I smiled, your biceps.