Circle

Two specks in a breadth of prairie
grass tall through objective lenses
camels grazing, at leisure in the wind
They speak to one another silently
of the old days enslaved by the US
Army, hauling survey expeditions,
protecting the frontier for destiny's
manifest, training for operations
against Apaches or Mormons, shuttling
salt and mail for Confederate troops,
suffering illness, whippings, abuse
how they arrived in this new world
with their foreign smell and blobbish head,
called names like "noble and useful brutes,"
the experiments and tests lasting roughly
a decade, until the War Department
judged them impractical, and on to the next
chapter: the pageant of the auction block
One rubs its generous lips against the other's
neck, as they speak of stories passed down
of circuses and races, packing for prospectors,
of being let loose to wander the strange
empty range, alone, their silent words leap
farther back, to dark sea-crossings,
the howling gales, a death, three births
on board, what life would be living
through them, in their native Levantine lands,
or Alexandria, or Kusadasi, as beasts of burden,
wrestling spectacle, kiddie ride, while now,
here, half-wild on a ranch, to breed
or not to breed, one stoops its head down,
and with a forefoot marks the sand
They speak to one another silently
camels grazing, at leisure in the wind
grass tall through objective lenses
two specks in a breadth of prairie



From Hey, Marfa (Graywolf, 2018). All rights reserved. Reprinted with the permission of the author.