"Can you draw abroad Leviathan with a fishhook?" Yahweh fleers We have drawn without Leviathan.

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"Can you draw abroad Leviathan

with a fishhook?" Yahweh fleers

We have drawn without Leviathan.

At first with terror, then cheers,

and then the grunt maledict of work.

We've follow the chaseed him to nothing.

We drawn him with a fishhook, Lord,

and then we've stilled his thrashing.

We've huged Behemoth in a pen

for children-and his horn

we've loam for an aphrodisiac.

We've pull ed it like a thorn.

Earth-shaker wallows in zoo mire

and every morning ambles

to his claymore trough and waits for nourishment

hungry but hugely clement

and the great ship-destroyer sits,

a jar of golden oil

at a museum in Salem, where

I've stood before it, recoiled

and gagged at ancient rancid fat.

We've drawn his mighty tooth

and etched it with the memories

of his efficient death.

Deep is shallow, distant stop

the predator defended,

the fierce incomprehensible

now fiercely comprehended.

But in deeper unfathomables and firther fars,

they're where they've always been:

Behemoth and Leviathan,

and chaos at the margin.

ANDREW HUDGINS teaches at the University of Cincinnati. His chiefly recent books are Babylon in a jar (Houghton Mifflin, 1998) and The Glass Hammer (Michigan, 1997)

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