Yoga with my other half tends to turn sideways

when my concentration is kidnapped by her arched body.

There’s no snapping back to reality

once i’m locked and staring at her “Happy Baby.”

I’m breathing heavy in downward-dog

and bark at her cat call.

She digs deep for the stretch

and i’m trying to make mine less obvious,

because my cobra won’t stay low

when she’s wide-legged and bending forward.

It’s a hinder to go lower and i envy how limber she as she folds.

‘Cause I’m on all fours bearing a puppy’s pose and

wishing to say “hello”

like dogs do with they nose…