Scorpio Rising (Grace Chen)

Scorpio rising in the morning, 
Constellations waiting for the sun,
 The earth tilts over on its axis again,
 Reminding us we cannot run.

 Scorpio rising on my birthday,
 This year I turn twenty-one, 
Leaves crunching under the sweet gums,
 Farther north from where I was born.

 Scorpio waiting for the sun,
 Magic is nothing but a fracture,
 Catch the irony on my tongue as it fades,
 With the last of the sweet summer plums, 
The last of the sweet summer plums.

 Doubled vision in the mirror,
 Edges fuzzy in the sun,
 Old homes in my dream last night,
 Reminding me I cannot run.

 Blue fog in my bathroom,
 Hairline fracture in the wall,
 Listen to the voices of the people I know,
 Telling me to wait another fall.


Scorpio waiting for the sun,
 Magic is nothing but a fracture,
 Catch the irony on my tongue as it fades,
 With the last of the sweet summer plums,
 The last of the sweet summer plums.

 Astrology can tell us nothing,
 But that what we already know,
 Go outside, look up, move slow.