Queen of the Tigress

Done early, done often,
My queen sifts in the shadows
Of silky sheets; in the indivisible
Darkness of morning, she disappears
In a bed of cloud, perfume and loam

I wonder: Is she really there?
Is my dawn receiver recepter
Merely reacting to trickster light?

Returning to mount her,
my Tigress Queen,
And release all the pleasures
Of a spinning soul & sour world.