The Sand Hill Review               http://www.sandhillreview.org 2010

On the Maiden Voyage of Francis Marion,

Revolutionary War Hero

The dog launched his body from the sinking

ship, landing with a splash just a few yards away,

and the six men in the open boat cheered as he swam

to the bow. They saw him as a lucky omen. And

what else? Unlike the men, he did not think

about shore or anticipate need. He was no prophet.

When Lykanos served human flesh to a god,

some say he was turned into a wolf. Some say the world

was flooded. In the boat, the sailors believed both.

When hunger came like a pale rumor the dog tried

to turn a deaf ear, but the air churned with it—

there was nothing else to breathe. The men swore

at the water, the heat, the cold, the dog and then

stopped talking. On the third night, the mate

—who had not been well—died. The first to notice

was the dog. He licked the hand, cold as night.

It was good. He moved to the sunburnt calf

and sank his teeth in, gently. Despite the roar

in his head the first bite caused, he ate carefully.

But he could not stop the growl that blossomed

in his throat, all gratitude for the Master who provides.

Rita Mae Reese