Etan Banfili

Etan whose voice makes music out of words

whose son shamed stingy Bres to leave the throne

whose husband hurled the heavy champion’s stone

whose thoughts flow from her tongue like herds

of bounty. You know the graceful weave of lines,

the meter’s call, alliteration’s singing

beat, the punning words  whose double meaning

dips and dances through the patterned rhymes.

With words you unfold the worlds but to your will—

The battle won, the people wise and well,

the family whole, you weave your dictive spell

Your worlds are truth, though formed out of your skill.


No warrior stands against a poet’s tongue

their battle lost ere they have yet begun.


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