Cloaked Love
My kittens have no lips for kissing--
The sweetest of their affections
is the soft touch of their needle teeth
on the soft flesh of my arm.
Sometimes their exuberance,
their ardor
Leaves a mark,
a twinge, a wince--
But also the craving
for even more prickly packaged
kitty love.
Because some animals
have no words to woo
They bite and box,
They dance and nuzzle,
they coil,
they sting.
Animals furred or feathered
leathered or shelled--
Animals hidden hided in yoga pants
or leashed with silk ties
Windsor knotted--
In the bounds of flesh,
love comes cloaked.
It comes stingy, lavish, lopsided.
It comes pokey, timid, wry and brash.
Still,
The pure light of love wants escape.
The pure white light of it wants out--
The straight and true of it
beaming through our cracks
to open air
But filtered by any fleshy weakness,
bent by every fleshy need like a prism
To myriad colors
we strain to see by.
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