I never thought of romance as a sink full of dishes,
masculine hands baptizing each filthy dish in love.
Or as an early morning farewell kiss
Me, uttering a barely conscious acknowledgment
of our new day started, turning over to postpone its arrival.
Love is our liturgy, liturgy our love as we share common life.
Knowing, when you leave the door, that time will pass
and with it bring you ’round to enter in
The daily laughter around the table, a term explained
that I would never know or want to know apart from you.
There is liturgy even in each disagreement,
as walls are breached, confession said and we continue on,
the kiss of peace leaving behind broken traces of disunity.
Laughter, that much more shared and knowing,
once again, reigns supreme around shared wine.
Sometimes our litany is spoken, sometimes simply found
in the smirk of your eyes. I know the meaning, I understand
that this one expression is love, martial love, Christian love,
and the more I understand each day, the more I long to learn
through each glorious repetition of our customary life.