Then White on Black, now black on white, we tangle.
With every move you play my opposite.
Your lips pale mine with their black beauty fullness.
Your arms pale me; I'm in your tightness, fit.
I hope to be your complementary color.
In all you do, I'll be your Soul support.
We're opposites, but not antagonistic.
We better one another in our sport.
My North, your South are locked in magnetism.
(A poet's conceit, perhaps too animal.)
A positive and negative in polar bonding,
Not polar in the warmth of its sweat pull.
Your image is indelible in imprint.
If I can't see you I have but to think:
Not ocher, umber, sepia, or sienna,
Your features writ in God's best india ink.