R.G. Evans offers a poignant meditation on manhood, aging, and libido.
Driving the Beast Away
Around the bend on the trail
a bison had claimed a wallow
in a patch of silver sagebrush.
Our guide told us to halt,
told us she would ride ahead
to drive the beast away,
told us it was dangerous,
that the animal was engorged
Up ahead, the drama unfolded:
the bison, in reluctant retreat,
tossed its shaggy head;
a young woman on a quick horse
disrupting the chain of need
between brain and blood and cock.
When our guide returned,
I felt my horse’s ribs expand
between my thighs, its heaving life
reminding me that I’d grown old,
driven away while others on the path
pass undisturbed. The horses
docile and unmoving,
dipped their heads into the sea
of sage to graze.
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