Regeneration

The clouds' shadows climb these central mountains,
like an echinoderm smothering a bulge of muscles.

Appalachia is a bed.

Feeling her adjust carefully under my weight
and then relax, becoming somehow longer and lighter,

she forms her shape to mine with little effort,
twining her legs around
when my mouth attaches to her neck like a little cup.

I must have twenty arms.




Denver Quarterly: Volume 42, Number 2, 2008
Read: She Comes Home in the Morning Now

 

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