old love

i hear them

in the kitchen, 

elbow to elbow

at the counter,

two birds on a wire,

slippers scratching the floor,

the clang of forks and knives

against plates.

his arm in the cold

light of the fridge

taking things out for lunch.

no, she says.

i think that's gone bad.

throw that away.

he lifts the lid

and smells the jar.

i think you're wrong,

he says. it's fine.

gently, she takes it from his

hand

and puts it in the trash bin,

then opens up a new

jar and hands it to him.

there you go dear, there.