Day dawned on Elah, and Goliath strode
onto the field. Three-hundred pounds of bronze
were buckled on him, and the armor glowed— 
portentously reflecting rising dawn’s
most thirsty reds. The armies of the LORD
had watched this happen every day (like pawns
resigned to death), and still the mighty sword
and spearhead weighing forty pounds had not
yet lost their fearful newness. Thrice he roared
to gather silence for himself, then shot 10
his widespread hands into the sky, and once 
again his blasphemies began their hot
assault. 

“Hebrews! A fearless lion hunts
his prey in places heavy with the scent
of man. The wilderness he leaves to runts
and whelps while he will reach into the tent
or fold to seize his prize. Indeed, he’ll seek
the very watchman hired to prevent
marauding beasts and, roaring, tear a weak
and bleating victim from his helpless hands.            20
But then! 
                 Ah, then that lion finds the reek
of gutted sheep begins to cloy. The strands
of clotted wool that after feasting soil
his mane begin to gall him—irksome brands—
effete reminders of unworthy spoil.
And so—at last—that mighty lion takes
instead the shepherd from his watchful toil
and cracks his bones, snaps his sinews, and slakes
that vicious thirst in human blood—so fresh!
So sweet. 
                    Now. Even as the lion aches,                   30
yes cries within that he must taste man flesh,
so I am craving a more savory prey
than bleating flocks of Hebrews. I could thresh
this valley end to end, and you away
would scatter to the wind like chaff before
the fan and leave no man behind to stay
my steps. But surely Israel’s fostered more
than you! Yes, surely Israel offers one
who yearns to buy a place in Hebrew lore
with Samson—who to gain that place would run        40
to risk his blood about my feet. Are Saul
of Kish, your ‘giant’ king, and Abner son
of Ner not heroes whom the virgins call
with timbrels in your dancing streets? ‘All hail
to Saul the warrior-king, whose praises all
the people sing! His might shall never fail!
He’s thousands slain to victory bring, and we
the mighty triumph ring! His great travail
we hail! We Abner’s victory also see
o’er hundreds more who fallen be. Our foes                50
they both assail!’ Indeed. Who lived to flee
destruction when they fell on those
Amalekites? So hero-like they broke
that land. They slaughtered farmers. Fed the crows
with infant limbs. And did not fail to soak
their swords in every writhing womb, or spy
out girls and chine them one by one, while yoke
by yoke they smote the cattle hip and thigh!
There was travail in Amalek—and Saul
slew thousands then. Yet every day I cry,                       60
and still he does not come. I see no tall
deliverer of Jabesh threading through
your ranks; no visage flashes over all
these heads a burning gaze in answer to
my own. Anointed Saul! Your people need
a champion! Your people need for you
to save them from their enemies! They plead
for help! Is not the purpose of a king 
to go before his people and to lead
against their foes?” (Those words’ familiar ring             70
curdled Israel’s ears like bitter wine.)

Goliath paused, one final word to bring:

“What purpose leads you to your battle line?
This Philistine insults you, men of Saul.
Select a man to test his strength with mine.
If he can fight with me and make me fall,
then all the Philistines will be your slaves. 
If I instead prevail when we brawl,
the Jews will serve us people of the waves.
I defy the armies of the Jews again this day.                   80
Now give to me a man that we may here in battle play.”