Beating sunrise

it's there.
touch it.
it's real.
fragile
this thing wrought
from random elements colliding
in a whirling furnace of a place
(wild fire you say with a wink)
and so new, we don't know what to call it yet

but it's real.

you blame
my reach for your hand
to pull you into the vortex of dancers
I blame
the fact you didn't let go.

And we could argue it
nose to nose,
lips to lips,
for many hours more

but dawn is licking the horizon
and I've decided I'm going to

beat the sunrise home.



©Renee Liang 2004