This Little Bed
has blood from my heel on the sheet
some of the hundred hairs my head discards each day
sweat from Miriam’s fevered body,
the scratchings of hamster marauders.
Friends have fallen asleep on it. I’ve removed boots
from legs sticking off the end, covered bodies
made tired by failure. I’ve perched on the edge
open to love, while David knelt between my knees,
bent double and cried on it, and watched the moon
shining down on the little bed
that the other David gave me, the David who died,
who’s planted here, a self-seeded cherry tree
in the warm mulch of this bed.
Page(s) 127
magazine list
- Features
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- 14
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- Agenda
- Ambit
- Angel Exhaust
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- Cannon's Mouth, The
- Chroma
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- Dream Catcher
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- Erbacce
- Fabric
- Fire
- Floating Bear, The
- French Literary Review, The
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- Global Tapestry
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- Interpreter's House, The
- Iota
- Journal, The
- Lamport Court
- London Magazine, The
- Magma
- Matchbox
- Matter
- Modern Poetry in Translation
- Monkey Kettle
- Moodswing
- Neon Highway
- New Welsh Review
- North, The
- Oasis
- Obsessed with pipework
- Orbis
- Oxford Poetry
- Painted, spoken
- Paper, The
- Pen Pusher Magazine
- Poetry Cornwall
- Poetry London
- Poetry London (1951)
- Poetry Nation
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- Poetry Salzburg Review
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- Private Tutor
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- Quarto
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- Review, The
- Rialto, The
- Second Aeon
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- Shearsman
- Smiths Knoll
- Smoke
- South
- Staple
- Strange Faeces
- Tabla Book of New Verse, The
- Thumbscrew
- Tolling Elves
- Ugly Tree, The
- Weyfarers
- Wolf, The
- Yellow Crane, The