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