mountain-woman

mountain woman, mountain woman,
won't you come down to the river?

where bears sing falsetto groans and wolves stripe their fur in cranberry;
you are bare-footed climbing the grandfather trees, wild-bird paint in your
eyes, prickles under your toenails, and thunder drowns in water below.

raccoon-children with their mischief-hands sleep in your hair and crawl
down your slate-rock nose; skeleton-men along your gorge beneath your
upper lip where sirens would ride their horses along your jawline,

and grey is your wisdom with empty caverns. mountain-man paws his
gravels, sits against the lightning where war-husbands eagle themselves.

you are an eastern fire; lonely stags occupying themselves in harpsichords,
their antlers resting on your breasts until wind moves them down meters
below your abdomen.

but you are a falconer owl with ancient eyes. whisper winds in your fingers
dance along deer-legs and hoof; you whither the moon under your eyelids,

where the wolfman barricades himself in your intertwining lung strings.

mountain man sailing in the river;
mountain woman, mountain woman,
won't you come down?