Caterwaul, Adam Kamerer

Tonight, sleep

and slip a little

free of your bones

leave, go on, ghost out

into the wilds

and stalk beneath

the cedar trees

and the pines

listen to the sigh

the raw exhale of feral earth

and drink lunar

the loud night.

Before you are ready

come back to yourself

snarled with animals

wake with

a wolf in your mouth

tongue the fur and the howl

work your fingers

through the tangle of stags

that have pranced themselves

into the thickets

of your hair

wipe at the snails

that have slimed themselves

across the white tremble

of your belly

find your lover

staring at you

across grey bedsheets

and scream cicada to them

for the rest of the night.

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Adam Kamerer is always getting lost in the woods. His poems have appeared in Anatomy & Etymology, Borderline, and Four And Twenty. He has authored two poetry collections: Bone Fragments and Ventricle, Atrium, credited as Gabriel Gadfly. Read more of his poetry at http://adamkamerer.com.