After all, he laid himself down

after taking the sun and air-dried sheets

of the line, putting them on that lonesome bed

in a room where silent goes skin-deep.

Used fourteen days as guarding layers

containing the smell of nightmares and

non-conducted eruptions, freshly washed

linen as a start of finding fearless sleep.

As he laid his head upon the pillow

Her presence seemed to be flushed away

with memory painted water that will

irrigate the fruits that are his to keep.

*****