In the early evening, the Hungruf* gather to feed,
One legged, one armed, half a head, half a body,
They come from sleep into a standing position and wait.
Why search for food when food is just a touch away?
Why race after prey when flesh melts away leaving meat
On bones, fresh blood for drinking, cooked by a mere finger
Against a body of human—and humans are easy prey—
Sleeping together, eating around tables, some of the time
Just sitting still on a hill looking at the water around them.
Afterwards the Hungruf drop to a knee, hunger quenched,
Thirst satisfied, and sleep the sleep of one naturally content
By the simple act of breathing, by the simple act of touch.
_______________* A Somalia folklore creature called a “Hungruf” believed to kill humans with a touch
| Copyright © 2021 by Michael H. Brownstein Michael H. Brownstein’s volumes of poetry, A Slipknot Into Somewhere Else and How Do We Create Love?, were published by Cholla Needles Press in 2018 & 2019, respectively. |
I marvel at your ability both to detach yourself (in this case from the human spirit objectified in the poem) and to insert yourself (into the folklore creature).
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