and while your other hand cups my cheek
I can feel the rough edge of your calloused palm
against the pillow of my skin
The room is dark
but muted yellow bends round the door frame
and moth shadows dance and twirl
in the glow
My back is turned away
and the weight of me
balances on an invisisble thread
laced between you
and the world
You pull me in
turn me
envelope the all of me
into your folded self
And there is a moment
when our curved bodies
arc
cup like
and new wine pours
into old skins
and we shimmer
