Making the Bed

Posted on June 26, 2003 in Book of Days Poems

Note: This is part of a series based on exercises from A Writer’s Book of Days. It’s something of a rebellion against the Friday Five and similar tupperware content memes.

Today’s topic: Write about the making of beds.

“You made your bed: you lie in it”

My mother used to say to me.

But she chose the sheets.

Once I turned the covers to see

Diet Pepsi colors, waves of red, white and blue

to temper the caramel colors of my unpatriotic dreams,

my sinful thoughts against the motherland

which was a pink house on 25th Street.

For the sake of two dollars,

she sent me to college with two straight sheets.

No fitted sheets for the spoiled second son

who had to get used to hardship

as if in seventeen years of being her child

my skin had never flushed from a slap

my belly had never growled from missed meals

my feet had never sored from walking two miles in the heat

my sleep had never been cracked by her and my father

making welting exchanges that I thought I caused.

Each morning I made my bed mechanically,

a little sloppily, but I covered and squared all four corners.

Yes, mother, I made my bed as you wanted and I lay in it.

When you started screaming, I covered my head

to escape the shouting, the blame, and the shame.

---

Want to participate? First either get yourself a copy of A Writer’s Book of Days by Judy Reeves or read these guidelines. Then either check in to see what the prompt for the day is or read along in the book.

Tomorrow’ topic/prompt: This is where I went wrong.