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Bedtime Stories
Old beds reinvent themselves,
as archived hammocks for the distilling
of sweat and foam.
Sprung mattress’ sag like spavined camels,
or twist days and nights together
into sheets stuffed with mental laundry.
Some beds have fallen comatose,
they wilt like boneless owls
in slumbering hollow.
A young boy jumps up and down on his bed.
One day he jumps very high,
when he lands, he is a teenager. By his side
a young girl,
both not knowing what to do next,
until the bed
begins to whisper to them.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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