The hills lay raw and bare.
Unbound ******* heaving
in the gray mist of early morning.
I wish I were the hills
and this car you're driving
was a strong, slow hand
snaking around my own loosed curves.
I want to be crossed by your
barest elemental energies--
moved by passion’s own embrace.
I want to stretch and reach the sky
and stretch and touch the dirt
and feel each resonant-twinge in between.
I want to be filled with the light
and the heat of a new day--
just as the valley
after the fog is burned away.
I want to feel the vibrations of thunder
deep in the middle of me
rumbling of something resembling change
again and again and again
until the light is extinguished.
Then I will breathe deep and slow
******* heaving raw and bare
in the gray mist of a hill-night