there is no hiding from it anyway
not in a mode of honoured sliding
out of sight ’neath covers in a
bed’s discrete complicity
your sanctuary from dreaded
things in olden days; the fear of
being bound too easily proposed
a neutral zone that all agreed
today you’d seek its refuge in an
easy beat – a dirge of loneliness
repeats itself in misery to none
but you and it profoundly tires
you’d sleep in deepest sleep that
life allowed if there was room to flee
such solitude – at peace with easy
wrap of sheets a comely shroud
© 12 November 2010, I. D. Carswell
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