In My House from Songs in Love

Here is a poem from my book, "Songs in Love":
IN MY HOUSE
In my house, there's a marble mantle, with a beveled mirror above it, and in that mirror, I watched you, turning and turning on the dance floor, spinning out the door, onto the balcony, lifting up like a winged seed in the opposite of falling, and I followed as best I could, up the stairs (grey-green, stone steps, dark, mahogany handrail), along a thickly decorated carpet to open a paneled door painted white and yellow, and I stopped, with one hand still on the crystal doorknob because I saw you there -- dark, golden skin shining thru a diaphonous white gown -- and I felt your singing reach out to me, lift me trembling like a butterfly, following the air out the window, up the wall (only the tips of my fingers touching the edges of the ivy), thru the cracked window and into the red room. I closed my eyes and saw red, opened my eyes and felt the red walls pulsing, pounding, repeating this place where I knew myself as a cell, holding captive the water of something else -- something impossible to name... But I knew I could make a choice, make any choice I wanted, so I opened my mouth and found the garden, under the stairs (dogwood trees in blossom, fish and turtles swimming in a gurgling pool where candles and rose petals were floating), and two hands reached up and offered me a flute -- a simple, silver flute with seven holes and no keys -- but they were not your hands, so I followed the tune back into the house, thru the french doors, along the long hallway, only the tips of my fingers touching the edges of the dark wainscotting, not in a hurry, not anxious, but anticipating where you might be, and then you were in my arms, and the ballroom was spinning around us, and the deer were dancing with us on their hind legs, drops of mist filtering the music, and I aksed you to remember, only remember, where and when we passed.