These bobber and blueberry plaid sheets
don’t seem as sleek as they once were.
I don’t think I washed them last week.

A put-together person
really ought to wash their sheets
at least once a month
because wrinkles and stains
don’t just take care of themselves.

Didn’t our mother raise us better?
I ask the neatly put together bed
that silently sleeps beside mine.

Although, I suppose,
the ticking of the clock
is the only answer I’ve got
anymore.

That bed only stares,
always stares.

That bed is done in purples and reds
and I always said it could use
a dash of black or white.
And when it won’t sleep at night,
I flip its radio on
and I keep country going,
even though I can change it
to play anything that I like.

The radio sits on an empty dresser
next to a bare table now,
one that I really should dust.
You’d be surprised how much collects
when no one stores
deodorant and lip gloss there.