V. Sonnets for Dancer

Only that tracing finger along a sinuous ridge

hints at the valley that you might flow within

in some secret pleasure dome that your seams bridge

from that potable stream between our days and dream.

Awake, alive: it seems to be no small sin

to rise to seek any world but the one within

your eyes, my mind, our heart encapsulated

in that soft linen repose from which we’re sated–

from that soft-spinning prose from which love sings

I have tethered my anchors to your world of gems,

as you ride on my hot air to heaven as chorus hymns:

You are the highest, we will always have an in between

those moments as mountains and their crescent ravines’

crystal-clear pooling: reflections of a bright love’s sheen.

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