The Dancer Tells

What I'm after is the flaw in time,
flow of intervals interrupted
from the upwelling cave of night.
To fit my body to its own heartbeat.
Walk the sky's harmonies,
sinews and pleats
with my nerves and curves.
What pours through life uncoils
from a seed. Tightens and releases its hold.
To notate a quasar is what I want,
make that raw gold my own.
My body eats rhythm
the way leaves swallow sun,
an alchemy of longing.
Music awakens another body in your body,
a rustling ascent that raises flesh
along the arc of love's
full-throated flame.

Rachel Dacus's Questions:

1.  Does the title of the poem serve its purposes?

2.  Is there enough tension in the poem to keep the reader moving forward?