In the chalky light of morning
in the hallway
whispering
to three pieces of lint
fluff one
fluff two
fluff three
you point them out to me
a solemn introduction
they are on their way to Africa
you tell me
in a backhoe
and then one piece of lint
cleaves into two
which is a tragedy
I didn’t see coming
half an hour later
there we are
your face all spent and splotchy
teaching me a lesson
I didn’t know I needed
about how wide
we can love.