My Right Hip Bone Loves You

It's February, time for love poems! 

My Right Hip Bone Loves You

My left hip loves you when we are spooning
on our right sides
and my right hip loves you when we spoon left.

My fibula cherishes your tibia
when we walk arm in arm
and my ear drums strain toward your vocal chords
when you talk or laugh or moan,
even curse or cough or spit.

The senior in me delights
when you hold the menu or bottle of aspirin
out to read the fine print
and when you mentioned my long john’s
saggy bottom looked old lady-ish

and my bottom adores you
insisting, as you do, I walk up the stairs first
and when you turn me over
tell me to get on my knees.

The twelve year old girl in me
steals glances at you in fifth grade math class
and writes your last name after my first
on the underside of my paper bag book cover,

the virgin in me surrenders to you,
there is a place I didn’t know I’d saved
until I am under you.

The bitch in me loves the bastard in you,
my whore wants your pimp,
my nun prostrates before you, my priest
and my sinner washes your feet, my savior.

My beta loves your alpha,
the daughter in me is protected by you, father
the mother in me suckles you, my son.

You said we fit together like
a zipper, yes. We are a jackpot,
your tokens filling my every slot.