Long Day's Lust or What Should Have Been

When a man comes home
wasteland he does roam
pull off his tie
silence his tome
child's wry smile
hide wives' sly tithe

When a man comes home
stinking of drinking
mind still loving,
licking nightfall's
blood-tipped finger
eyeballs droop, hair needs a comb

When men come home
rooster combs slump
hen egg-bone 
rattles and prattle tone
endless loam
bled to sand