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The Narrow Bed


 

The Narrow Bed



Several times a night I quit the bed
to stumble to the toilet in the dark
and bumped the sagging mattress where the dead

relatives reposed and left a mark
of human stain. And now I hear a lark,
my love, my love, announcing you have fled,

putting on your pretty underthings
while the moon had drawn your eyes to stare
at the bedroom mirror as it brings

ghosts to lounge upon these empty sheets
that wound around our winding limbs once bare,
reminding us that they were young and lovely

once, and shivered as these shadows fray
with loss. The city slowly rolls awake,
and you are soon forgetful of our play.

I stretch for stolen moments, slow to shake
thoughts of you my pillowed dreams still make.
But when this bed is made, I'll slip away

 

 

Royal Rhodes

  

Royal Rhodes is a retired teacher of global religions, religion & literature, and death & dying. His poems have appeared in print and online journals, including:

BEARINGS,  Snakeskin, The Lyric, Cholla Needles, Harbinger Asylum, and in a series of art/poetry collaborations with The Catbird [on the Yadkin] Press in North Carolina. His current project is an exhibition on The Art of Trees.

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1 Comments

  1. a poem about getting up at night and going to the bathroom, im with you on that. part of getting older. nice job.

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