Our kisses are not the stuff of movie magic.
Our embraces do not make heart-sick teens swoon.
Our banter will never trend #relationshipgoals.
But when you send our toddling daughter,
grinning with mischief,
into the bathroom where I’m trying
to have just one moment of privacy
(on the toilet!)
and I hear you laughing like a madman outside the door,
I know you’re really saying, “I love you.”
The fire’s no longer pulsing with the blue heat of newly ignited romance.
The fresh-felled logs of youth are drier and more brittle.
The burn is slow and perhaps
But the embers are keeping.
And when I wish for the passion of a green heart unmarred
by the constancy and lunacy of such a thing as marriage,
when I yearn for the fireworks of decades past, I look
into the steady glow of our unremarkable love and find
For where else but within the confines of an unremarkable marriage can
a bowel movement spoiled
become a moment of sparking flame leaping
with joy, lit with magnificence against the backdrop of a starry sky?