FRAGMENTS OF A TEXTUAL BODY

Last night I woke in the arms of an orange tiger
and wondered at the white one placing a forepaw on my hip,
then resting her head
because I feared any movement
might cause paws to extend claws
and hold a warm pillow person in place
so I steeled my bladder
for some stand-off like my safari friend
sitting six hours in a jeep
while some lioness enjoyed the shade of their vehicle
until the orange tiger whispered
“I love to hold you while it rains,”
and I awakened to find
merely the housecat nestled by my thigh,
my husband’s ginger beard tickling the nape of my neck
though I was still equally loathed to move
and break whatever feline spell
had been cast on my behalf.