(Pow, right in the feels. And using space, too.)
A saturation of forces holds us,
pirouetting through the possibility of darkness
probing the field in yearning steps.
Many partners share the floor,
but in restraint, the tidal pull of our
reservations tickle together
timeless revolutions, sun-bleached
for the final, shaking breath when time
skips, us tipping into the hooded sky.