"poltergeist or the duende's gift" by Geoffrey Philp
if only sleep or a good night's rest could absolve
my many betrayals: retreating when i should have stepped
forward, retiring when i should have charged ahead;
for the ghosts keep tumbling into bed with me, they grow
arms and legs, and poke and kick and jab all through the night,
and i'm left standing naked in the bathroom mirror, battered
and bruised in the sunlight, wondering, how did it come to this?
why have i allowed this to go on for so long? and when i leave,
they pluck the springs in the mattress, rip the pillowcases
with their teeth, scatter strands of hair on the night table,
bump photographs of happier times until they hang
lopsidedly on the walls, their edges bent or broken,
the glass stained with soot; then they rearrange
the furniture, so the troubles i come home to look different,
but are the same tussled sheets and torn comforters.
i never sleep in the same bed twice.
From xango music (Peepal Tree Press)