Your I Love Yous come
on padded paws,
on night-stilled floors,
in snuggled fur,
where pleasured claws
scrape pinkened pores.
I bleed a purr,
then quiver some.
For sex infects the blackened night with spores,
the prickled husks stuck to our souls as burs,
our bled hearts red as haws for us to hum
a song, to shake us from our hums and haws.