, , , , , , ,

she slept—
wrinkled and small on satin sheets—
knees tucked tightly beneath her chin,
as if waiting to be reborn.

motionless, she dreamed of burgundy
and peaches from georgia.
how peach juice spilled onto burgundy satin looks like blood.

it was raining when it happened,
but that isn’t important.
she would have loved the rain on any other day…
but today, peaches and satin sheets embezzled her sleeping mind
and kept the rain out.

when she rolled over, the eerie creaking from overworked coils
reminded her of that regretful night in april when,
hidden within the box spring,
tornadoes of metal circles pushed hard
against white pine while her body screamed for silence.

she trembled and sobbed loudly,
drowning out the erratic song of the weeping mattress.

april had given the promise of new life…but
he wouldn’t stop until—abruptly—
the single syllable bang was loud for only  a moment.

funny how blood mixed with peach juice on burgundy sheets
still looks like blood.

the song of the mattress was silenced.

the song of the mattress

computer generated artwork & poetry:  tolbert