by Mary Alice Dixon
in sunrise sleep
between
the silver lichen
and the straw
you dream
yourself
a woman
wearing muscles
on your legs
feathers
in your hair
mysteries
in your flesh
until at sunset
you awake again
wings stretching
from your breast
mysteries
hatching
in your nest
as hungry cries
break
from eggs
a woman lies
in hope and silk
to dream
she sleeps
with you
and warms
her brood
with feathers
feeds them
with her milk
Photo by Erik Karit via Pexels
Mary Alice Dixon is a former professor of architectural and landscape history who grew up in Carolina red clay and Appalachian coal dust. She is a Pushcart nominee and 2023 NC Poetry Society Poet Laureate Award finalist. Her work appears in Braided Way, Broad River Review, Fourth River, Catholic Poetry Room, Pinesong, Stonecoast Review, and elsewhere. Mary Alice lives in Charlotte, N.C .where she is a longtime hospice volunteer who loves growing garlic and gladiolas in her garden.
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