This bed
may as well be a coffin.
It is already cold.
And closed.
And full of dirt.
Though I doubt it is hallowed.
But nothing is ever completely accurate
in reality’s slight.
So close the door.
And be content.
Eternity
is the only thing
that will bother
to follow you in.
editors note:
Our little blip does not eternity make? I feel slighted, too. Night, night. – mh clay