Siamese Smile

My current cat likes rough love now and then,

leaping onto the newel-post to bat at me as I pass,

begging me to take his gage and duel

over and under the banister, like cavaliers:

other times he offers his belly,

lures me with submission, his paws

cutely bent but alive with claws that

flash and scratch and draw blood.

Always there is the thrum of purr that says both

“I didn’t mean it!” and “That was fun!”

Just like you when you arch your back and

take me deep, your buttocks

smacking my belly, demanding

more and harder,  and the sudden

agile grace with which you throw

my twice-your-weight and pounce,

growling, clawing, engulfing:

the hum in your blocked throat,

the flash of dark eyes in wild hair,

your mouth alive with teeth and your

Siamese smile.