piku

Assuming it's a warm chaise lounge

That's puffy, she lies coilingly

Beside my neck. An ovate sponge

Of pelage. When I stretch a knee,

Veg out awhile, or genuflect,

A squirmy motion's on my calf!

“Some lethal, stinger-borne insect?”,

I fear and check: It's her. I laugh

Because man carries beings who

Tweet by his neck—a sweet display—

While I have one that tells me to

Share morsels of my canapé

With her and ceaselessly caress

That hirsute skull to help her rest.

I am a serf to this empress.

I pause a bit—a purred protest!

When my myopic parents state

My shoulder has some coal black stuff,

I say, "A human! Though the great

Almighty's coated her with fluff.”