subtext

What does it mean to be in love

for years? Not the day’s arduous plod

through the house, certainly not

the tired snips and complaints

over a simple dinner. It is

the simple dinner. The collapse

of the world to a moment of calm,

in the ritual of food. Love redeems.

Love wades past the inconsequential

muck that clots along a boot’s heel,

until it carries us to drier ground.

Love is the hand reaching for a hand

through time, the glance across the room,

each morning’s brief farewell embrace.