I lay my hand across
my collarbone and
render a dream. Un-
real, my hand is
yours and the air
around us is velvet.
Your smell fills
my brain and I am
wasted. Your secrets
become mine-shared
when I touch your
hand or when
I awaken to your
eyes on me. It
is both night and
day, because, in
this dream, we are
celestial,
simultaneously
warming and cooling
ourselves against
each other,
wrapped in the
invisible promise
of the universe.