Navel Gathers Its Own Lint

The shirt comes off at the end of the day and a bit of gray fluff sits in the navel. It collects there without effort, like dust in a corner no one sweeps. The skin holds the shape of yesterday's waistband long after the belt is unbuckled. Water from the sink runs warm over the hands before the towel takes its turn. These quiet gatherings ask for no attention yet they stay.