A Humoristic Dead Bed

Hectic, the day has been; Birds are flying back home; Back home, on the head of the hill, the sun sets. Sets of exhausted people, home they rush; Rushing to families to meet faces infuriated; Infuriated, in the bed I jump inside the sheets. Sheets and blankets spread oddly in the cradle; In the cradle, I stretch desperately to see her imminence; Her imminence smells no chance, except the cold kiss of chills. Chills have dissipated the marital heat to sow coldness; Coldness slain communication to inherit hatred; Hatred in bed, I crooned the last words in a deaf ear. Causing one to turn left, and right the other moved; Moved in discrepancy, a boulevard traced between carcasses; Carcasses shed tears to replace conversation beneath the sheets. Sheets covering cadavers that died in silence; Silence of humoristic demise on a lifeless cot; A lifeless cot that communication can resurrect. Poem by Mugisho N Theophile