Dancing in the Stars

My gown is golden, like ghee or dandelions, woman clothed in the sun
your hair cinnamon bark, pinned back, smile sunlight on warm water
I am so in love, so at peace, as I princess turn in a starlit ballroom,
pressed against your chest like a secret, the moon is a sailing ship
above us, your eyes are endless pools of emerald depths, your suit
smells like home, sometimes I smell you in waking hours and I cry,
but here we are whole, now we are one, dancing to a phonograph tune
the dance hall is lit with torches, rosewood floors, my heels sparkle,
we tap out a rhythm with our feet, joke, laugh, blossom like a fire,
you have always been so gentle, only harsh when I am in harm’s way,
and though I touch forbidden fire, you are there with a sweet salve,
I lay my head against your stomach, I don’t come up to your breast,
yet I can still hear your heartbeat, how human it makes you, wings
betray divinity, and a crescent halo belies princehood, but you are
never vain, never proud, I asked to dance with you, so we waltzed
all night, quiet and tender, slow-dancing in the fourth heaven, and
the worlds and all their grandeur slowed to a halt, disappeared, just
you and I, the world was our stage, you said, and you would dance with
me until I am old and bent, at which point, you would rock me in your
arms, sing B’shem HaShem, and beckon me on to my next life, carried
into the darkness in the arms of my golden angel, with a part of me
always dancing, right here in your heart, no space between us but a
promise: that you will life me up, be my wings, and together, fly.

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