Arms entwined in exaltation  
invoke the watercolors
of her voice diffused in
a hymn between our bodies.
This lyric of midnight--
of flesh, of moon,
and leaf and moth--
whispered in darkness
gives birth to hunger
in search of moons,
scent, muscle, and breath.
Even in this darkness
her eyes are the brightest
stars and there is nowhere
I can hide from her grace.
She sees those parts of me
that I hide from the world.
And in this room without walls,
butterflies and angels overhead,
only the hymn between us remains.