THE MATH: (Moon + Jupiter CONJUNCT Pisces) SEXTILE (Mars + Capricorn) = the grey

THE WEAVE:

Jupiter swims up

to the Ferry, butt-naked.

Medusa is on deck…

"Oh hey, Jupey," Medusa says
in a sing song, staring
him down.

"Medusa, hey, what's up babe?"

"I think I'm in Love
with my best friend,"
Medusa tosses it out,
to try it on.

"OMG, LET'S TELL THEM,"
Jupiter says, as he tries
to climb aboard.

Medusa shoves him
back in the Water, "Dude, no.
Fools rush in, Jupiter."

"So be Foolish," Jupiter says
as he doggy-paddles, in circles.

"But then I would start
the sequence over,
and I'm doing a new
thing: being patient
with the chemicals."

"My darling, I'm afraid,
you aren't making any sense,"
Jupiter says, then makes a dive
to show Medusa his balls.

She leans on the railing, waiting
for Jupiter to bubble up again,
"I'm disappointed to hear that,
Jupiter," she says, as Jupiter
bursts to the surface, like a mermaid
seeking breath, "This nonsense
makes perfect sense.  Besides,
you're one to talk, Mr.
'I have set my rainbow
in the clouds.'"

"What do you know about that?"
Jupiter's eyes dart,
as he swims further
a Way from her.

Medusa grins, "Have you
read, '2 : The Priestess
and the Veil', Jupiter?"

"Who wrote it?" Jupiter jumps
on the question, relieved
to change the subject.

Medusa looks down, and plays
with the railing, "Proserpina,"
she says, casually, "It's in
the Forest Books."

"You know I cannot
read those," Jupiter's
face falls.

"Why?" Medusa leans in,
"Because they're dangerous?"

"No," Jupiter flattens,
"Because it would hurt
too much."

"So they're dangerous,"
Medusa pauses, "Fine.
I'll recite it for you,
but you can't just keep taking
the Pleasure, Jupiter.
Some day you must accept
the Pain. And you definitely
cannot come on this Ferry."


2 : The Priestess and the Veil

"I Love the Grey
of my Life.  Each color

bursts, inside of it.
Moss mint, and lemon hay.

The blue of the crows
feather.  The purple

of the pricker bush
glows, with neon

brightness.  I am
at home in this

neutrality.  The deep
collecting on my clothes.

The tousled Mist,
a wall of shrouding.

Here, the Witching
Hour, is all hours

the son walks veiled."
"I get it," Jupiter says,
from where he treads
Water, "The rainbow.
Like father, like daughter."

"Like father, like daughter,"
Medusa confirms.

Jupiter swims a Way...

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