for poet dan
Ground into a powder, that massive horn
is much prized as an aphrodisiac;
but the pale creature to whom it is born
uses it for a different attack.
Against the backdrop of the setting sun
his silhouette stark in the growing gloom,
there is little from which he turns to run;
The lesser veldt denizens all make room,
knowing well he is quite easily riled.
He knows his only enemy is time,
a slow, creeping foe that rarely fights fair.
To that great challenge, he is reconciled –
a battle with a primordial slime
that swallows whole all things without a care.
07 MAR 2003