I only mouth the words

Curling

on a chair

in soft afternoon light

from a window

She reclines at ease

with a

spring catalog

full of summer clothes.

Men tend to make

fantasy

reality, she says.

Lying

on a sofa

with propped head

I read

while stark light from the lamp

spirals

across a page

of the magazine of tomorrow 6

here today.

Women tend to make

reality

fantasy, I say.

Spinning

slowly she sits

her chair

at evening table

meal prepared

quickly

at modern convenience

in timed oven

that promises

loving care.

Men tend to make

home

a castle, she mostly groans.

Straight-backed

chair

sitting at table end

I pass a dish

to the right of course

and hurry

to the chicken

with barbecue sauce.

Women tend to make

castles

into homes, I quickly impart.

Coiling

under white linen

on late-night

bed

after love

with stocking

feet

to keep her warm.

Men tend to make

every affair

a love, she… silently sighs.

Face-down

and bare

long time

from a moment ago

cool linen

only tempts me

until

I must answer

her call.

Women tend to make

love

an affair, I… only mouth the words.