Your hair is a curtain
and I see your eyes
glimmer behind the strands--
the strands I gather up
and fling around us

so that now it is a tent
enclosing two sets of eyes
that look and see and gaze

enclosing two mouths that
kiss, explore, connect.

enclosing two pairs of hands
that careers, cajole, create.

What is it about air
moving across muscles, tendons, tongues--
a simple miracle--
that fans the flames
I find in your eyes?