Toil and Trouble

I'm exhausted with your dissatisfactions.
The rueful shake of the head over unmatched socks,
The endless lectures on food preparation and storage.
Well you're not what I expected either bunny,
With your mental preening
And the stink of Friday night revelries
Rising off your body in a fog
Of stale whiskey vapor.
The children love you and are learning
To think me stupid by example.
Careful, genius.
When we met you thought I had a touch of the hag,
(Kabbala in the cupboard, runes on the shelf)
And to tell you the truth I'm trying.
There's curdled milk in your coffee
And I'm cursing our union daily.
If we’re patient you’ll pass
With no push from me;
Stop for a six in a terrible place,
With excellent results.
The shiv in your belly
Will cut the rope from my wrists.