At the arch, the bend, the breath, and the sigh;
yesterday heaving – panting – a soul cadence of
chanting – light dimness, and attentions, reverbs,
and echoes; footsteps near a door – both of us
arriving from somewhere adroitly.
At the seance – the movie of shimmers, the wall
of painting – worshiping, and genuflecting – bows,
whispers, and spells – reaching, touching, smelling –
the inconsequential memories of others, and you
teaching me to dance as only love can.
At the clock, snare snap rim tap playing; and we
are Latin with passion; dark heat night cream, star
burst mouths laughing milk sweet melodies – teeth
grazing fingers – eyes mixing fire steam into pores
of late night, once again un-lost, uniting.
At the shore of sailing, at the moment of our time –
our wave precipice, our during, our deciding, is the
new thing altogether – the smiling, the collapsing –
the felt; made again from the unmade, at rest and
finally what we have wanted to be without dying.