Waterbed
Poem
To the naked eye, it was a fine mattress.
The woman, supine, seemed serene on the waves-
gentle and small (it’s only a waterbed, after all.)
But zoom in- you may notice her muscles are taut.
On her stomach, arms outstretched, she rode the waves-
unsettling, yet small (it’s only a waterbed, after all.)
Look closer; her hands are pressing down hard.
Her body is covering more holes from the waves-
many, but small (it’s only a waterbed, after all.)
Her head turns- tears stream; she can hold on no longer.
She gives over control to the leaks and the waves-
strong, if not small (it’s only a waterbed, after all.)
But she cannot rise, so she sinks in the mattress.
Her body, her face, awash with the waves-
killing, though small (it’s only a waterbed, after all.)
To the naked eye, it was a drained mattress.
The woman, supine, seemed serene on the frame-
gentle and small (it was only a waterbed, after all.)
more by VK LYNNE
photograph by Angelina Litvin
