She calls it that
When I stand over her face
nose to nose
waiting
for her to lift the covers
“Go under?” She asks
Then I burrow
head first,
maneuvering the darkness
with her warm soft body
as my guide
‘Til I reach the axis
of her legs
and torso
Where I turn
and curl
into a ball
The short sharp hairs of my backside
pressing firmly into her soft belly