I love a man
with some wildness left in him
a space evergreen dark
where nothing’s programmed
where hair’s unkempt and
bodies know bodies by
skin scents and fur signals



I don’t mean sex only
I mean the space evergreen dark
where anything might happen
in moist grasses where he
is pleased to amble alone
with the darkness and his own weight
where he converses with lichen or stone
hawk’s scream in his ears
a man rooted at earth’s mound



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Claudia Lapp
CLOUD GATE, 1985