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naked mattress

 the naked mattress seemed more abandoned
 than on nights gone by
 when european percale sheets
 lifted like a kite from the corners
 as though they had somewhere to go
 and struggled passionately to get there.
  
 the sagging mattress appeared cold—
 now that she looked at it
 from the way he had always seen it—
 bare and abused by bodies that left tears and sweat.
  
 as she lay crying, face buried in her hands,
 her tear-stained lips kissed the only flesh she knew.
 her heart abandoned just like the barren mattress,
 she was suddenly aware of the putrid smell
 lingering from more nights than she cared to know
 and more men than she dared remember.
  
 she saw no form in the wrinkled sheets
 and the corners that had betrayed her
 —corners that once defined the pattern— 
 now laid limp on the dusty hardwood floor
 like the man she had exhausted with her passion.
  
 on his back he seemed desolate
 with no blanket to warm his outstretched body
 and no sheets to protect his misplaced dignity.
 
 she cried, wondering who he was and why he stayed
 when he could have abandoned her in the night
 and left her life more stained than the naked mattress.

tolbert

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