She Took To Her Bed
She took to her bed
Waited out the wailing winds,
And reckless seas that tossed her,
In love’s empty boat
Without a compass
She floated away from the land of lovers
The shoreline retreated in the darkness
She closed her eyes
And let it go
She took to her bed when the blood flowed
To mourn what never left,
What never arrived, what never grew,
What never died, what never blossomed
And never spoke with a voice inside her
She took to her bed to pass the days, adrift,
To lay on humid sheets,
Where she watched the shadows of trees crawl across the walls
Or heard the cooing of doves outside the window
And in the space around her there grew a calm.
One day a spot opened in the bed, it said,
I am here for you.
She nestled into that spot,
Curled as a lock of hair around a child’s pinky
She escaped without apology
Accepted the solace of pillows to the cheek.
The bed remained steadfast
Restoring strength inside her
With the blanket of time tucked under her chin,
The years passed.
Later, they said of her,
She took to her bed.
Carol Deminski’s work has appeared in Word Riot, PANK, Bartleby Snopes, Jersey Devil Press, Metazen and The Northville Review among other journals. She’s on the web at http://cdeminski.wordpress.com. She lives and writes in Jersey City, NJ although not always in that order.