When you wrapped yourself around me,
I felt a gust of atoms combine with mine instantly,
Falling into me like a gentle avalanche,
Or a settling of dust on a distant moon,
Colliding madly but nonetheless made of you, this,
Somehow spaced out into eternity,
At the finish line of our planetary lives,
In this little slice of rural universe inside your trailer,
This pastoral oasis untainted aside the endless day of city nights.
Outside, the Doppler flashes of headlights
trail across the pale blue veneer of the shallow walls inside.
And your hair hangs down above me like a forest of vines
And I’m looking up through these branches
and seeing the sky looking back at me,
enveloping our space and framing us
in our childlike fascination,
in those entrancing states as you permeate
my many layers, and I tell you in just soft rotations
That I was once a small deaf dove
mistaking underpass traps for apertures to a lover’s soul,
lured in by seeming moonbeams,
enticed by what looked like Hollywood searchlights,
because I couldn’t
or didn’t want to, hear the hissing heap of snakes across the threshold,
and even then,
a constellation of gleaming scales was all I could admit
until I was bitten,
but that was a time of my life’s creaking clock rolled back,
many ticks away, hands spun counterclockwise
so many times over you’d think I was just keeping track
of cosmic coordinates on some gigantic map
of places marked off with big red tacks where I didn’t find you.
That was a time with rosier veils
obscuring the shine of my divine carousel.
In its rotations I saw a newcomer with bravura,
Porcelain proportions of a stallion with a lion’s mane,
And you its ringmaster about the spiraling golden cane.
Ours was a racetrack to love.
Hours outside our silence growing,
I think maybe now I am knowing
that it’s not so wise to fly out the starting gate
that its best to stop knocking spectators from their seats
before we’re sure the game will end complete.