Saul And David

 It was a villainous spirit, snub-nosed, foul
Of breath, thick-taloned and malevolent,
That squatted within him wheresoever he went
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And possessed the soul of Saul.


There was no peace on pillow or on throne.

In dreams the toothless, dwarfed, and squinny-eyed
Started a joyful rumor that he had died
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Unfriended and alone.


The doctors were confounded.
 In his distress, he
Put aside arrogant ways and condescended
To seek among the flocks where they were tended
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By the youngest son of Jesse,

A shepherd boy, but goodly to look upon,
Unnoticed but God-favored, sturdy of limb
As Michelangelo later imagined him,
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Comely even in his frown.


Shall a mere shepherd provide the cure of kings?
Heaven itself delights in ironies such
As this, in which a boy's fingers would touch
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Pythagorean strings

And by a modal artistry assemble
The very Sons of Morning, the ranked and choired
Heavens in sweet laudation of the Lord,
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And make Saul cease to tremble.

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