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The Ordinary Love of Iseult, by Kerry Spencer

Updated: Jun 2, 2021

True Love is no great thing  It's more the wordless gift of a Diet Coke on your bedstand 

("Because I just thought you would want it later")

than it is an epic story of heartbreak and longing

It's the hypnagogic kiss, sleepily left on your shoulder, every night,

not an ecstasy of moonlight and song

Tristan had it wrong

Love is not a poison to consume 

It is white hands reaching to steady you

when you've forgotten to steady yourself

the sandwich in the fridge, the call that comes as you drive home

the feet that rest against yours as you sleep, until you can’t tell whose are cold and whose are warm

Her "I love you,” is not an anguish

It is cinnamon toast eaten by the television

crumbs brushed off the bedcovers as we change the channel and turn off the lights

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