Attack Underground

While Lucullus raided cherry orchards,

he left us to besiege,

grudgingly, this outlander fortress,

named for an Amazon queen,

while thinking of food and home.

Not one of us has seen

a single horse-borne warrior woman.

Meanwhile, we dug a tomb.

We intended it as the tunnel

through which we’d claim the fort.

We shored up the sifting roof

and dug by lamps

that shed more shadows than light.

At last we formed up underground

to attack with sword and fire,

but the enemy tossed in hives,

and in a cloud of stinging bees

our torches jerked and swung or fell

so we could hardly tell

where to strike, or what, for next

our enemy sent weasels in, and foxes,

which seemed to be done in jest

until we felt their teeth

and heard, more than saw, the larger beasts.

A wolf  began my death.

I lay in men’s and weasels’ blood

and heard the body

that dropped at my side

ask, What barbarian thought to make

But a flung torch showed me the face

of a bear that said nothing, and died.

Then came the boar.