Two Water Glasses

After Chardin

 

I cook pasta

With steamed greens

 

A staple meal

For austere times

 

I eat quickly

You ruminatively

 

Until we finish

And sit in silence

 

You sigh

I hum

 

You change places

I stack the plates

 

Leaving behind

Our water glasses

 

Facing each other

On the table

 

In the low light

Of the dining room

 

One half full

One half empty

 

As if deep

In thought

 

We retire to bed

Read our books

 

A single glass

On each table

 

Slightly tepid

Filmed with dust