this is love


i wonder what he thinks about love
surely he imagines the texture of our bodies in tandem, belly to belly
but does he know of a different love-gear?

the kind that swells during the folding of his laundry
and in inhaling the way he smells after a long day
in the aftertaste of swallowing whole his bouts of moodiness
(because i, too, have bitter pills in my dispensary)

there is power in the type of love that comes from the quiet, everyday cadences
sometimes scary the endowment this emotion holds
in-residence during the subtle, routine passions of life

low-octane love can take more than it gives
but when it bestows, we are bequeathed a god’s eye view of the universe

this kind of affection is vaporous form, an essential element

i wonder –
does he know love like this?

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