"one microbiologist devised her own taxonomy for the Antarctic male.
There were predators, who lurked at every turn; scavengers, who were
usually considerate enough to wait for a signal before pouncing; and herbivores,
who wanted nothing to do with women."
—The Tapir's Morning Bath
In the mess hall, in the lab where,
Austral winter, all stayed, the primates
began to sort themselves, to parse out
roles and strategies.
In America, it was the 70s. And females
came south clothed as
microbiologist, ichthyologist, physician. Eve,
so to speak, had arrived unattached.
And the Adams who
for a hundred years had been pacing
out maps, naming and naming
species and peninsulas and weather
suddenly had new tasks. What is natural
about any of this? The station
on the frozen ground, provisions
shipped in, the idea that here
sex and power would not dance together or
would dance differently.
The newly-arrived Eves knew
they were entitled, despite the fact that
they had come second. This time
they'd brought new appetites.
Author Discusses Poems