And although
they’ve spent
nearly 25 years
cleaning the same

***-less bed sheets
every two weeks
and have used
the same blue soap,
the same rusted spoons,
both believe
another’s body heat
may be more comforting.

To her the morning coffee
cools quicker
than it used to.
His conversation
reminds her
of unsalted grits.
She sees the lines
beneath his eyes and
wants to tug
at them like zippers.
She’s contemplated
******, even.

At night he touches
himself. He moves
blankets off and on,
side to side.
He awakes wet.

In the morning
he looks at her and
wonders why
she stabs at her eggs.