A bed should be a tender slab, devoid of insects.
A tired woman should be able to lie across diagonally,
headache to hag feet.
A bed should exist in crystalline silence.
It should have a sleepy blue view.
A nearby window not close to voyeurs.
A bed should have a special pillow to shush the head,
to coddle and safety the amygdala.
If established on the ground, a bed should have
a bioluminescent quilt to redirect the gaze: the prey
is over there.
If established in a tree, the quilt may allow for free feet
or a tossback with luxuriant abandon.
Among other things, do not build your bed on dictionaries
or books of any kind.
A bed is best made from a wood frame, or metal, or dark matter.
A bed should be free of lye, lime, and liars.
One should be able to enter the bed and think
I could fly far away in this. I could die; I could just die.
Copyright © 2023 by Jill Khoury. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on July 14, 2023, by the Academy of American Poets.