I Know This Joy

You can’t recall
If she meant it,
With or without

Implied put-down.
The dishes clinked,
And the cosmos

Grew another
Six hours meantime,
Other events—

No piece of which
Can quite go, now,
And still, it grows,

Now candlelight
In a warm room,
The flickering

On your eyelids,
By which you see
You know this joy.