Dish soap and mop bucket
Your husband doesn’t seem to care

Tuck mugs into cabinets
We all know what loose lips do best

Assemble bookcase puzzle
Mumbled I’m Sorry’s, half-heart hugs

Sweep dingy pantry
He softly floats hands to your waist

Hang all the paintings straight
Flash a rictus, let him caress your thighs

Preen a price chopper bouquet
Heat rushes down, he takes the buds

Clothes still need unpacking
Cold blood, you lead him to the room

Before he leaves to the bar again,
Your tongue thaws and tastes his lips;

Who are, somehow, still sweet.