She Wants New Sheets

by

Phil Pochurek

She wants new sheets.
Uncharted territory, fresh, crisp.
No stains, no reminders of yesterdays love.
Something different, new.
I want to keep the old sheets.
Familiar as skin, only smoother.
Six hundred threads of well-seasoned cloth.
A deliciously soft road map to your dreams.
With a memory, a history, that is ours alone.
Hundreds of love making sessions
Anointed with massage oils, our sweat,
And the juices of life, of joy, of love.
Stained over the years with passion.
Faded memories of trysts long past
That nobody sees but us.
Sheets so soft, so warn, so loved in, and on,
It’s hard to break from their grasp, their spell,
Once you’re in them, even when you’re alone.
Sometimes I actually think about them, miss them,
When they’re not on the bed.
From their horizontal world of sex and dreams
To our vertical world of everyday life, I love those sheets.
Maybe that’s why she wants new ones.
She’s jealous, envious, annoyed,
That I could become so attached to something so mundane.
Personify something as simple as sheets
To the point of bruising her feelings.
So they’re gone with all their loving memories.
And with them the joy, the lust for sleep they created
That they instilled with a single touch of your skin.
The desire to linger, to stay, to hold, and be late.
Their spell is broken at last undone
Only now a new one begun
As she rolls into my arms.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Old Barfly Gibberish
by: Heather Prudence Davis
from: Columbus, OH, US

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