The Allegheny Sharpshooter

sallies forth 
garbed for the hunt 
in shirt of linsey-woolsey 
and moosehide moccasins 
eats berries and game 
jerky and rockahominy gruel. 

Through the woods he slips 
on panther feet, toes 
feeling twigs, rocks 
never a rustle afoot 
only flutters and caws 
a crashing deer. 

With his American rifle 
(slow to load, quick to kill) 
he stalks red coats 
heavy skirted 
tightly breeched and booted 
picks them off like squirrels. 

He fights at Cambridge and Freeman’s Farm 
walks in buckskin leggings 
and naked thighs 
to defeat in Quebec, 
traded for two British prisoners. 
Said of him, he starves well.