Old Locutus
Body light
with age
she
concedes to lifting,
old claws
catch
as she
kneads my chest.
Her ears
so silky
but tiny
rough spots
mar her
back.
I stroke
the hollow under her chin
and a warm
loofah tongue
washes my
knuckles.
We drowse
warmly
in the
early morning dark.
January 13, 2014
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