Bed(s)

by Therin Jepson

 

We would roll like spiders
in the dust of our skin
then watch Dan Rather or Cheers,
or just stare at a lovelier past
which, too close,
disappeared into dots—
much as choosing to hold you
as we fell into slumber
meant waking trapped, sticky,
in the crack between mattresses,
twenty minutes to nine,
spotted with dirt, and unborn.