It’s The Little Things

Just as towels
must be folded precisely
along the crease,
she follows in the wake
of my dusting
to nudge photographs
and knick-
knacks back into place.

After decades
of married life, stasis
is preserved by
accepting the other’s
sacred rituals,
even if agnostic and
not subscribing
to that particular faith.

But rebellion,
too, is a healthy release,
even if the battle
goes unacknowledged,
as in the case
of our bathroom rug,
continually being
rearranged by an inch.


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