Don’t let them re-tell our story
from the highest points

I want a legend of a thousand vignettes
scraps of time

the in-betweens
the cinnamon drink you make me
when I’m working late

our secret whistle
even though I can’t
whistle

an errand at the drugstore
and I can hear from our son’s laugh
a few aisles over
that he is upside down

promise me you’ll tell them
it was the rumble of daily living
that made me flush
with love for you.