Lover, I dance in through the open door

Lover, I dance in through the open door
into your dream. The mirror reflects shadows
of pink and orange, the horizon glows
with love. I am counting the measure on your

arms and legs, watching the light pour
over your living skin from the open window.
Lover, today we dance and again tomorrow
we'll forget how to awake. The tilted floor

of the museum is confusing, movement keeps
creating something. The whispering shaman
in a valley that is covered by a sweep

of clouds, written in the smoke is an omen
and a puzzle. I wonder if I am asleep
to see so beautifully delicate a woman.