A couple eats in silence
Thinking only of the lamb chops
To see them through the window
Doesn’t look like much
Love folds itself in silence, like birds going up
It is not much to look at
But the safety of arguments that have no consequence
Is love
The falling back like breath that knows it will swell again
The nuance of the sighs, and the bathroom door left open
Is love

Words still come, habitual,
Naive as decorative columns
Tricked into thinking
They are holding up the house