So we could pirouette
On the point of a needle
Even slip through the eye
If we keep dancing close enough,
As the ground thrums
And pulses, convulses.
We have spinned focus
Colours blur to a single fixéd mark
And you become my own optical illusion;
Out on the edge of my field of vision;
Yet somehow right at the centre of my world.
All sounds are dulled
As the air opens and shuts to let us through
The tunnel walls respond to our footsteps
With echoes, on reverb.
I take your hand, just in case
Off the edge of the world.