room,
she hears hawks
high over rolling hills
we arc up, roll and join
and roll away,
high eyes glistening down
I brush her once here,
graze her once there,
she feels wings
I give her my licks of wing,
sharp flicks of talon,
my rough, cruel voice,
my down
we fall
we fall
we fall
toward that river
that soil
that call
Aerie and high
aerie and deep
we nest there
we nest there
and sleep.
SHARED HEAT
There is a certain hairy roughness
to overcome, I understand,
for me it is all easy,
like biting into warm
sour cream.
To touch, then
near sleep,
to fold together
like egg whites, like gears,
then sleep without touching,
sharing heat.
Shared heat.
Is this not the peace and comfort
of the species?
Why we gather under heavy
robes in winter?
Why we sew together
such huge quilts?
Roll apart, not touching
in the night sleep.
But never far,
never too far,
from the heat.
WOODSMOKE AND PERFUME
As a boy, there were
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