Love in Halves

The bone was smooth in my palm,  

a relic of patience, scraped gleam.  

Two wet noses collided against my knees—  

a rhythm of wanting, tails semaphore joy.  

I could have chosen favorites,  

could have given one whole jawful.  

But love, I've learned,  

isn't about the largeness of offering,  

it’s the act of splitting the sunlight evenly.  

So, I snapped the treat in two.  

Two halves, not mirror-perfect  

but fair enough for tooth and tongue.  

They took their shares greedily,  

small universes orbiting their mouths.  

And isn’t that what love is—  

this choosing to soften the edges  

of scarcity, this giving not all  

but what we can?  

I watched their jaws work,  

the smacking proof of enough.  

And for once, all my doubts  

fell quiet at my feet.