There is some comfort to be found
In the myriad small rituals
The day clothes itself with
Those moments spent together
Follow their natural course-
Me tinkering with minutiae;
You getting lost in books:
And the apparent forgetfulness
With which we treat each other
Is the galactic glue
Anchoring us in space together
Tethering us to the low gravity
Of inconsequential distraction
There is none other
Can be so artfully neglected,
Camouflaged among the days loose ends
Even as, following along each others wake
We're holding to the years as tightly as we can.