Moly
Dreamed c.1968 by Thom Gunn
Nightmare of beasthood, snorting, how to wake.
Leathery toad that ruts for days on end,
Or cat that prettily pounces on its meat,
Parrot, moth, shark, wolf, crocodile, ass, flea.
These seem like bristles, and the hide is tough.
Into what bulk has method disappeared?
The pale-lashed eyes my only human feature.
That bites through anything, root, wire, or can.
Oh a man's flesh already is in mine.
I root and root, you think that it is greed,
Direct me gods, whose changes are all holy,
Cool flesh of magic in each leaf and shoot,
From this fat dungeon I could rise to skin
I push my big grey wet snout through the green,
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NOTE FOR THE MYTH-IMPAIRED
"She" in the first line is almost certainly the sorceress Circe, in Homer's Odyssey, who turns his crew into animals. Gunn's arguing he is an animal, hungry--but not for belly-food. He knows he's bestial and he wants more; transcendence, a cure.
--Chris Wayan
SOURCE: Collected Poems by Thom Gunn, edited by August Kleinzahler, 2007, pp. 34-35
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