Fortress
by Stan Sanvel Rubin
“Attain both hard and soft.
This is a pattern of earth.”
—The Art of War, Sun Tzu
I rest in a pyramid of branches
where the sky is a hint of sky
and remember climbing here,
a boy after school.
What smart noise I made,
hidden in green, caressing my stick rifle,
holding off the enemy
in their distant trenches.
Alone, I breathed the space
of this field, remembering
what every movie said about courage,
the resoluteness of manhood,
the loneliness foxes know
in their forest lairs. Drenched with summer,
I aimed and waited for shadows
that dance in the leaves.
Now I am long past fighting
with anything but myself.
Even the ghosts that watch me are silent.
Even the rags of the tree are still.
This is a pattern of earth.”
—The Art of War, Sun Tzu
I rest in a pyramid of branches
where the sky is a hint of sky
and remember climbing here,
a boy after school.
What smart noise I made,
hidden in green, caressing my stick rifle,
holding off the enemy
in their distant trenches.
Alone, I breathed the space
of this field, remembering
what every movie said about courage,
the resoluteness of manhood,
the loneliness foxes know
in their forest lairs. Drenched with summer,
I aimed and waited for shadows
that dance in the leaves.
Now I am long past fighting
with anything but myself.
Even the ghosts that watch me are silent.
Even the rags of the tree are still.
Stan Sanvel Rubin’s poems have appeared in US magazines such as Agni, Georgia Review, Poetry Northwest, and others, as well as in China, Canada, Belgium, and Ireland. Four full-length collections include There. Here. (Lost Horse Press) and Hidden Sequel (Barrow Street Poetry Book Prize). Born in Philadelphia, he has lived on the north Olympic Peninsula of Washington for more than twenty years. During that time, he was an essay reviewer in poetry for Water Stone Review.