strip-the-willow

it’s a strange game we play    
spinning  
spinning    
bruising clasped so momentum    
doesn’t throw us full pelt    
into our own orbits    
with our new moons    
yours already with names    
   
there was a time    
the vacuum of space    
sucked away my breath    
as you extended me out    
to spin and i    
scrambled for your arms    
trying too hard
to lay my head    
to kiss there
between your neck    
&your shoulder    
where every muscle    
would have relaxed at the scent    
the cover    
of my safe place    
   
but now we jet toward the sun    
comfortable, distinct    
in this dance of occasion  
twirling hard    
in &along through the stars    
sometimes    
   
sometimes    
when the moons    
aren't looking