Kaleidoscope

Every exhalation
offers evidence of excitation:
falling in the river and then
pulling each other out, again.
Rolling on the bank;
dizzy
falling
breath
keep breathing.
Words have no meaning.

Stony banks to soft sheets;
pulling
sinking
breathe.
So close, skin to skin,
exploring the unknown.

We are lost together, in
a dim jungle of soft sheets.
We pull fruits from the vines,
examining them with our hands
and mouths. We step in soft mosses,
lingering, and curl our toes. We stand
hand in hand and listen to the cries and
calls of the birds, hardly daring to breathe.
The cries, the sweet fruits, the rich smells
of earth, fill our senses.

Not a jungle; an ocean.
Locked together in a vast expanse,
in our lifeboat of soft sheets.
Pulled this way and that by the ebb and the waves,
adapting to each change in the wind and the current.
Wind and breath and sky and water,
merging and flowing.

Not an ocean; a cosmos.
Floating through forever,
explosions last millennia,
and form galaxies and stars.
Holding each other as we drift,
wrapped in these soft sheets,
weightless, timeless, breathless.

Are your eyes binoculars,
showing me these paradise?
More like prisms; I fly apart,
but hold you tight, gasping, suffused
with every colour.