The cockroach crawled beneath the yoga mat.
She spotted him in time, in downward dog.
In time so that there would be no surprise.
Across the floor, her mat did intersect.
He went beneath the edge to take a rest.
The girl was brave, no panic did she show.
Was hidden from our view. Did he proceed?
Did he continue course across the floor?
She waited and then tapped the edge with toe.
She hoping tapping motion might compel
the roach to move in fright from secret cave.
The last I witnessed of the roach who crawled.
I never saw what drama happened next,
to see if he proceeded on his way,
or if antennae over edge did peak.
My backwards view diverted to the front.
Direction of instructor, forward lunge.

Don’t make her give an explanation why.
Your actions, can you always full explain?
Your motivations and your rationales.
It’s not that she could not, a reason, give.
It’s not the fairer sex who reason lacks.
Nor is it men who have the upper hand.
If you would walk as peaceful in your life.
Those women in your life whom you would love.
Attraction is a matter of the heart.
Its workings, pumping organ, mystery.
Don’t make her give an explanation why
unless all truths of self can tolerate.

If you accept all truths about yourself,
including those that you would rather not,
those things about you, you would rather hide.
What are those things, reluctant to reveal?
The fears, abuses, burdens from your past.
Your secret lusts, your hidden fantasies.
To her, you whisper of them in the night.
Shared moments, conjured, intimacy bares
all of the naked self to naked self.
Don’t make her give an explanation why
her naked secrets, now, with you, she shares.