My Favorite Freckle

While technically this is an object poem, that's really just a nice way of classifying another song of worship to my Tiger... This is erotic if you get the joke...

 

The sunlight burns amber in your hair –

            Incense to my tiger-god.

I kneel to that sacred spot on your lip,

     Divine in a godless sort

of way.

On the floor with your list of words,

         Lost in your ironic echo:

 I had you first

You airlifted my tears with horses

    And I swear I won’t tell

 About that spot –

             It’s yours

               I’m yours