Portrait of the Body with Eros and Lanternfish

A friend said being married
isn't hard— it's maintaining eros
that's challenging. I try to remember
if eros ever held a glitter gun in one
hand and a champagne flute in the other.
Back then, eros seemed to think love
always needed to be boldly announced, 
leave a hot imprint in hotel sheets 
in the middle of a weekday, pass
a sweet from its mouth to another's. 

Now, after kids and a mortgage, 
we've swapped flaming saganakis 
for cheese sandwiches at work, 
survive with coffee and Power-
Points. We've learned it takes 
work for anything, including 
desire. It takes work to keep 
a surface fabulous, a system
running at peak efficiency.
 
Down in the murky depths 
where lanternfish live, sparkle 
and glow aren't just embellishment 
or distraction: their bioluminescence 
helps them blend in with the shimmer 
of water hit by sunlight. But yes, 
the extra rows of photophores 
embedded in their bellies are also 
for romance, for signaling to 
potential mates in the dark—
eros saying Hey, I'm stll 
here, it's still me.