leo rising aquarius sleeping
the soft dust that hangs in the air
dances on the particlewaves of light
like my fingers along your skin
in that same soft warming light
feeling the muscles and bones shift next to me
in the crawling light our shadows
form landscapes and pastures
and our hands cast spells in the air
when we share our passions
in a sleepy slur, half secret, half pillow talk
whispers of winter crops, goats on the hill
music droning out into the communes
visions of vetch and vital companionship
the sun rises into the room
and brings with it the same warmth
that radiates out of you when you smile
it splashes your face as the soft waves of breathing
continue to roll over your body
and i bury myself in your hold
and i smell the earth in your hair
and the dirt left on your skin
pleasant parallels of how the roughness of life
in turn makes us soft
like the dust that hangs in the air
when i come home
as the sun rises into the room
Zøe Axemarsh Woods is a writer from New Jersey by way of Olympia who is almost always thinking about the Pine Barrens. She doesn’t have much printed but has a lot to say and says it regularly as part of Heartspark’s monthly readings in Olympia. She believes in a future that embraces nature and machines equally and longs to have metal arms with which to plow the field. Talk to her about Tetsuo: The Iron Man or the band Sleigh Bells: twitter.com/monsantobama
