Golden hour

The sun sets beneath a golden halo.

Wax figures drip colors on the ground.

(This is our first slow dance.)

We are made of clay. 

Adam and Eve were made of clay.

(Sweat beads down your neck.

I trace your jaw with my fingers.) 

Global warming will turn our earth into water vapor.

We are twirling, half-drowsy and heat-softened.

The earth is holy. (So are we.)

I melt under your first touch. 

(Touch me before we turn to dust and air and nothing more.)