This Is My Bed

A poem I wrote today (26th March 2009) whilst in bed.

My bed has its own terrain,

the duvet is crumpled so that

it resembles the hinterland of Kabul,

the ravaged bed sheet

has creases that form

fences through arable land.

 

My bed has seen wars,

we’ve had many here you’ll recall,

from when we first took pity

on each other, till now

with the erection of

our own Maginot line.

 

My bed has pieces of you and me,

and the ones I have forgotten,

our skin, our juice

will rest in this archive,

a time capsule that has

gone terribly wrong.

 

My bed is staying here,

but I am moving on,

someone else will lie on us,

another will add to our flakes,

pressing all of us together

whilst they sleep at war.

 

Reviews

[The Flawed]

Wwhhaaoo I do like this, I mean really like this, so powerful and to the core, I could have written this for my ex-wife.
Very true very dark and extremely clever
But what do I know?
Well done