[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.