I met a gentle man so well enclosed
about himself he imitates a bug.
By neither laugh nor sneeze is he exposed,
nor attitude; he sits a selfish hug.
His dentist only sees him open wide –
his cats alone receive his pent embrace.
But maybe he’ll unfurl away: abide
with me relaxing in another place.

Perhaps the arctic heavens or the lift
of glacial tides, the suck of melting mud,
will quicken him to clasp, impel him, swift
as never dared before: a mounting flood
that by its pressure pulls his arms apart,
and so admits my presence near his heart.