what love is

a man
goes to work
each day
and comes home
late.
he shows
his wife
his hands
as they sit
at the table
to eat a cold meal.
he unfolds them
to show her
the calluses,
the bruises
and cuts.
i do this for
you, he says,
this is what love
is. but she
turns
from him
and looks out
the window
past the reflection
of her
fading youth.
no, she says.
it's not.