My feet sometimes
start dancing by themselves:
white-socked toes
bobbing on the couch
like marshmallows.
You stalk them quietly;
brown eyes tracking,
muzzle dipping
back and forth
to the music in my head.
Who can explain what happens
when you finally pounce?
The fierce bites that never land?
The socks damp
with the tickle of teeth?
The joy of growling
at someone
you love?