Lemon wedges
cross cups of tea
while you and
I invent each other.
Dark wood table
and clockwork dinner
inviting lightness as one
rhythm incites another;
every minute in this space
is a rivet in an instrument,
and each instrument articulates
a tacit promise, reenacted-
to participate perpetually,
without the need for understanding-
like a key that weds a lock,
or a poem without and ending.
