‘Even Isaac Newton believed in magic.’

you tell me while we get ready for bed,

in between brushing our teeth and

washing my face.

‘His interest in alchemy was well documented.’

And I smile at you in the mirror

at the idea all science began as magic,

while you pass me the toothpaste.

I wonder if alchemists felt like they were creating

the world from scratch - mixing myth and prayer

and finding reason.

You say you aren’t sure - while we pull

back the duvet sheet.

I think about how many scientists

contemplated the mysteries of the universe

from their bedrooms - as I lie against your arm -

and listen to the whisper

of the wind against the eaveshoots.

My eyes drift closed,

your hands banded around my waist,

and I think that

love isn’t an emotion:

it’s a force of nature.

My head sinks into the pillow,

my fingers caught in yours

and I smile.

Love is like gravity.

That’s why you fall in it.