Aza Pace

“Wanted to linger in the flat winter
alone at the property line,

where barbed wire twists irrelevant
through the pines. Wanted to merge

into the speckled landscape
like the fine lacework of roots

turning by touch through dim earth,
to feel that energy wick up my legs.

Wanted oneness in the nameless sorority
of trees and creeping lichen. Almost—

But then, you break in with your body,
and my body

turns woman again. My skin distinct
from grey bark and rudely aware

of all the secret pink places
you’ve kissed me.

How I hate you for a heartbeat,
before I look up to see your face

stinging sweet with cold
and recognition. Your pupils open wide

to drink in the sight of me,
and here is this other beauty I wanted.

— Aza Pace, “Definition in the Woods,” The Boiler (no. 30, Summer 2019)”
― Aza Pace