There will be Motion

For now, we stay still.
In two or three months
the farms will shut down
and every silo will be
empty, waiting for us.
He moves with me
for comfort, sleeps inside
the crease of my arm and
moans when he dreams,
dreaming moaning
when he moves with me,
sleeps inside. I cannot
wake up. I cannot wake
up. Every silo is empty,
the rotting farms sigh and send
up clouds of hay dust, gold,
gold against the green.
Stay still for now, stay
still so I can wake up.