Thirteen waves: x.



You’re asleep
and waves of air
slide in and out your lungs;
five inspirations
for every snore of the ocean.
Once in a while wind
bumps the overhanging tree,
and we both turn over like a wave,
and your belly warms my back
with perfect timing.

Poem and reading by Rachel McAlpine CC BY 2.0, photo by Dave Young CC BY 2.0 via Flickr