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Six

There is a way she has
of lying down behind me
when I sit out on the lawn
that is both invitation and request.
I reach back and plow my fingers
through the arctic fur to work
the muscles in her neck.
She presses a blunt white paw
into my ribs for leverage
and the fire in her hazel eye
sparks and smolders.
We remember the land bridge.
The crossing we made together.
And we confirm anew this old,
mammalian pledge of fang and thumb.
This co-dependence of six legs.

~

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