My body is in love
with the stone in the Earth.
Thighs chase shape
away from highway
under a day moon,
lugging the weight
of a backpack
stuffed with shelter,
how humans heaved
when the body was all
there was.
Those first ancestors
to mount horses fought
from the animal’s sweaty back
took land, herds, females:
genes of the conquered
absorbed into their own.
But here at the hot springs
we’re all kind in the nude.
Hands of sun
pat down our haunches.
Maybe we just want evidence
of innocence
below our necks.
Bodies lead us to water,
sink, emerge in steam.
We step away
from our outlines.
—
Katie Olson Afshar grew up in Southern California but prefers the redwoods and feral beaches of Northern California. She is a pediatrician with a deep love for the human body but conflicted feelings about modern medicine. Her work has appeared in the Sun, Catamaran, RockPaperPoem and Hunger Mountain, among other journals.
