Most awe commands humble

Crouching beside, thorough

Observation; may pounce without notice.

In most cases, ends without one too.

This one lets you take it in your lap,

Kicking: Where’s the doggie

I was holding!?   Lets your lips

Smell its warm freshly baked hair,

Curly and flying in your face.

You forget where the other organs

Even are.

Remember how you let reverence

Into your own belly? Wasn’t that hilarious?

The innermost: a negotiable resource,

A social space, where, for example, you held a dance –

As it turned out – one more time…

So now your belly now thank God alone,

But here is a subtle thin painful vacancy,

And here is the throne,

The warm outer hollow

Where the prince –

Might sit.

O what sighs, when you fill this new space.

More peaceful than post-coital bliss,

Because it’s not post-. You belong, the body whispers!

Against the simple fact that the source

Of all this awe is now ever more moveable,

And as time goes along, will not belong

For much longer – to you – to anyone else;

Against more such thoughts, and most odds.