The following is the first-prize poem in this summer's poetry contest. Its author, Charles O. Hartman, received a $25 first prize.
Theseus
The cheering patrons grow bored
With thirteen bull-dancers
Dodging and turning almost as one
Evading the goring horns.
The crowd calls
For the bull-leaper
Theseus.
Now, they say. Now
For some real sport.
Son of woman and god
He stands in the Cretan ring
Facing the bull:
Suddenly alone among friends
Man and beast stand
To be understood always in new ways:
Then each steps forward,
Bull rushes, leaper leaps,
Suspended
And they touch; painted horn
To sinewed hand,
A toss of the great head
With a hint of encouragement,
And this son of woman and god,
Half flung and half flinging.
Flies over the great
Curved and sbarpened horns.
His feet touch lightly on the bull's broad back
And then he springs
Up.
He scribes
The boneless are of a flying arrow,
And touches earth
Lightly
Reluctant to leave the air.
The bull stands tired,
Until tomorrow the man is safe.
They eye each other,
Finished for this day's dance.
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