Making the Bed - March 22 2024

 

Making the Bed

March 22 2024

What you think about

while making the bed.

Snuggling under

that cozy comforter

on cold winter nights,

and fresh sheets

in a fragrant breeze

on a warm summer day.

Especially watching it float

on a plush pillow of air,

flicking your wrists

so it falls perfectly.

The good night’s sleep

you never seem to get.

The pillow next to yours

where her head used to rest.

And that thing you read

about the well-made bed;

the dank underworld

in that virtual space

where toxic moulds flourish.

Or even badly made;

not tucked tight

and pulled so taut

you could bounce a quarter off,

but straightened just enough to count.

So why not

leave the bed unmade?

Because what’s the point

when you’ll just mess up again?

The treadmill of futility

that’s life day-to-day;

like the sink of dirty dishes

you’re never really rid of,

and the dust from who-knows-where

that falls no matter what.

The twisted sheets

piled to one side.

The blanket

you kicked off

too hot and half-awake,

in that fitful delirium

of weirdly fractured dreams.

And the pillow case

where flecks of skin and drying sweat

impregnate the material.

Where, when you weren’t tossing and turning

you laid your heavy head.

So you don’t.

And as you leave the room

pulling the door

tightly shut tight behind you.

                 “It’s just going to get messed up again next winter.”