Making your bed D.S. Maolalai
pulling your linens hard against the mattress. like flags at airports, tight in high winds. piling old sheets in the corner and putting down new ones— our tangled scent and memory given way to smells of chemicals. I don’t know if I like this; replacing the comfort of odors with something that comes from a bottle, which smells the way that someone has decided flowers smell, but I know you do. and really, who wants dirty bed linens? I’ll like this just as much when we’re both asleep tonight. I tuck it at the corners and strip the comforter for new covers. you are in the kitchen sorting the rest of the washing. it’s winter, walls batting cold like a horsetail with flies. I feel that I could take your laundry and pile it with my fingers. push it down like leaves in compost. fall in it backward and sink. 51
