Fabric of metaphor, our tent
floats between earth and heaven,
our luminous bubble of warmth
free from prying winds and eyes
as we burrow under cloth, through
the skin, into each other's hearts
to the tranquil core of ecstasy
joined in timeless radiance. We
pitch it fluently, quickly, wherever
we can, in brief crevices of the day,
at the edge of the tide, on the cusp
of the hill of desire, conjuring
the magic in a space as small
as my thumbnail, as expansive
as the night sky, our own desert
to water with joy. Suspended
from the poles of our desire,
the fabric resonates with your cry
as your yielding commands me
to take you ever deeper, to lie
joined in blissful stillness through
the long night. Fabric of magic, nest
of the heart that you make for me,
I for you, here we are different people,
our pure selves intent in each other,
red and green, gold and blue,
here I shall love you forever.