[After Kai Miller’s ‘A Short History of Beds We Slept in Together’]
The first brand new bed I bought for myself
Smelled like independence and recycled cotton
Perhaps I’d spent too many years in house-share beds
That smelled like quarter-life crises smothered in overpriced rent
I lugged this new mattress of mine up the stairs of my new house
Solo, I lugged this handleless lump of comfort.
There was no Rachel of Chandler to yell “Pivot” to
Just a ginger cat at the bottom of the stairs looking up at me
Like “Who are you?”
It had been so long since I had a room of my own
Ugly purple carpet, misshapen floor, window peeping straight into next door:
It was perfect.
I smile and take my first seat on my unmade bed
The hardness shocks me a little
Til I remember:
I chose a firm mattress to remind me of my backbone
I had come too far to sink into myself again.