Running through the forest free,
Barefoot sensate to the brown,
Arms outstretched to the leaves,
Screaming silently: "touch me. touch me."
The brown bark scratching,
Compressing buttocks bare to the wood-
"Do you dare?
Do you dare?"
The forest's open mouth,
Dark shadows zippering,
Flipping flesh stretching,
Reaching for the mouth-
Still closed; hands fisted;
Pressure building; never burst.
Clothes trembling, hidden goats
On grass pressed watching.
"It's in spurts;
Do you know?
Do you know?"
And thus ever
Yearning freedom in the fields,
Fighting forests that don't yield.