sex has become a miracle
with my frizzy hair, flab
and pissy pessimism
it's no wonder
I don't know how my husband
gets it up
keeps it up
me in bed all day staring at walls
watching reality television
reading the same books
raping the muse
with a cheap black pen
ten hours each day
he works a job he hates
listening to T-Mobile customers
bitch about their bills and bad reception
then he comes home to a dirty house
the woman he fell in love with
three years ago
buried beneath a smelly
dallas cowboys comforter
resenting him for being too tired
to lick the clit