Mechanical single bed
behind a curtain.
Immaculate mod-con manufactured
for comfort with restraint.
Starched linen. Hospital corners,
tucked in at the edge of the oversubscribed ward.
Need to be a VIP to get in here.
Have that special something.
Called Cancer.
Wasn’t as exclusive as it once was.
They seem to be letting anyone in now.
She had her space -
sacred single bed and
wooden cabinet
to store the part of her life
she was allowed to bring with her.
She last slept in anything
but a double bed since she was 19.
She hadn’t slept alone since that day
when she became his wife over 40 years ago.
A single bed for a singular life
with a singular disease.
She prayed she’d go home to that double bed,
and not to sleep on her own forever.
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