vagaries of desire

every night this man
moans in agony of desire
that he does not feel
for the woman next to him
who wishes for someone,
anyone,
to touch her

and that the man will not
seek another
for he has spent a lifetime
decrying those who
put a toe out of line
and values what the world thinks of him
more than what he thinks of himself
and he who has never used a finger
to lift so much as a twig
needs her services

and nor will the woman
who has resigned herself
to the fate
of middle-aged women,
grandmothers
who channel their desire for touch
into the innocent touch of little ones

there is nothing for the two of them to do
except for them
to continue to project the image of
a happy family
and question in moments of clarity
if it is not all a sham

except for him to shout at her
every day
apparently because
the peas and carrots
are touching on his plate
but actually
for not being what he wants
for not letting him seek what he wants
by the very fact of being alive

and for her,
not knowing that he is only
venting his frustrated desire on her
to implode
if she does not
wear herself out
with washing his underwear