Beneath the Skin of This Moment

Upon an ancient patterned rug, whose threads are woven through history, I think of you, more bare than ever.

Love

is not in flight,

but in the gathered warmth of my body,

beneath a skin that forms the boundary

between your world and mine.

Everything is here:

the medallion's motif,

the pulse beneath the veins,

and this overflowing silence

dancing through

warp and weft.

You

touch my solitude,

and I become

a moment

escaped from

the hands of time.