I love the animal in you
the warm fur of your haunches
your tender underbelly
the soft bass of your heartbeat
your growl and your purr
 
I love the feral fighter in you
that can snap a neck and shake
the limpened body like a toy,
that can wrest if it must
the crimson viscera
from its fang-torn housing
 
I love the mother in you
and the father who can call
the frightened young
to your heart with one kind
motion and remind it that life
can be a loving and a safe place
like the cushioning womb
of the human in you
                        

How I envy
the furry black 
yellow striped
caterpillar
that climbs
the lush stems
of the basil plants.
Sheltered within the deep
green redolent canopy
it spends its days
feasting
on the fragrant leaves,
unaware
that with each
delicious bite
it destroys
its gorgeous habitat.
By the time the leaves
are all reduced 
to lacy stubble
it will be time
to find a resting place,
pull a shroud over itself
and wait for the dawn
of the next life.
How I envy 
the furry black 
yellow striped
caterpillar 
that can destroy 
its world
and retreat
to the succor
of a regenerative
cocoon.
                        

My grandmother
described hers
as the map of Israel.
Mother had hers
bobbed after a break.
A boy once called mine
long and skinny.
Stalwart survivor
of sunburn, pimples,
bonkings, it stands
above the lines
of disappointment
that lie between it
and the corners 
of my mouth:
supporter of glasses;
detector of wet pavement,
citrus blossom, skunk,
the vanilla in a cabernet,
the cocoa in coffee.
My nose remains 
the sole feature
on my face
that wrinkles only
when my mind
requires.