in my house lives a small demon
she has recently learned to share
the heat of my lap
my time or my meals
I often withhold my supper
to show her when sharing is appropriate
that my hunger also bears importance
in her impatience she wishes to bite me
she, too, withholds
she still leaves my hand between her teeth
to let me know she could
though they never sink into my skin I understand
her small body could tear me to pieces
in an single instance of despair or fear
she may hurt me and run
and I would miss her
long for our lessons in sharing
her time
or warmth
our mutual trust