For My Wife, On No Special Occasion
You know me well enough not to expect much
in the way of romantic notions,
even in a poem, where
such expectations can be high.
I won’t be saying that we are one
(how boring would that be).
Yet, on occasion, I am reminded of that
slow, thorough collision of galaxies
sometimes seen in deep space
where shapes are reshaped and reshaped again
and each reshaping reveals a sprinkling of
unexpected colors across the dark night sky.
More often though
I think of how our lives are now
that much can be unsaid, but understood,
even in a poem,
where expectations can be high.