I can see Artemis and her hounds stumble 
through the city streets as they try to find
a path among steel-faced buildings;
concrete replaces the dirt and trees
they came to know when they thundered
through forests and pastures, hunting their prey
while it hid—quick, the Huntress is coming!

And when she crosses the road, a great feat,
does she stare open-mouthed at chariots
that no longer need horses to pull them?
Just an alert driver, and perhaps 
a passenger to change the song now and then;
when she steps out into the road, 
does her untamed heart beat as fast as those cars go?

When faithful hounds the size of wolves
look upon the domesticated dogs
that chase people about on their leashes 
and collars, do they shudder to know
that the wild can be bred out of them 
like a boar in the desert or a lion 
in the snow—oh Huntress, where will you go?

Image by Dimitris Vetsikas