The Nostalgist
Poem
Published in
Mar 1, 2024
I remember waking up
in the sharpened hands
of the bed I made.
Lying still
as if lying still was no different
from falling.
The doctor prescribed
more bed rest.
At home, I will feel safe,
recover.
I remember waking up
in the sharpened hands
of the bed I made.
Lying still
as if lying still was no different
from falling.
The doctor prescribed
more bed rest.
At home, I will feel safe,
recover.