It's falling, it's falling!

I scramble as it hits the ground——
oh what a crash!——loud is the sound
of losing a bed
     the place for my head
           all simply because
               I'd clumsily lost
                    some screws
and now I'm distraught
as I sit and watch, and thought:
a few screws loose——

                          Where could they be?

                                                           ——I did not see
                                              them under the chair
                                               or under the table
                                             among the tools
                                      or with the cables
Maybe I've swept them?
                                 ——they're not in the trash!
Did I throw it out?
                       ——but I wasn't that rash!

                        Or was I?          (I pause.)

——I pick up a phone
I dial a number
——his smartphone rings
I disrupt his slumber
he grunts as I blubber
——have you seen my screws?
This is no ruse, I find myself now——
                            a few screws loose!

I silently wait till he
                                    sighs
                                              and says:

Have you checked the trashcan——
                                               ——It's not there, I saw
Or under the table——
                        ——have you checked the floor?

It's none of those places
——I searched at least twice
Why else would I call you
——at this time of night?
Please do me a favour and see if you find
the few screws I'm missing
                                                    I’ve left them behind.

I'll search tomorrow
——he says with a yawn.
——I hang up in sorrow
I'll call him at dawn.
I'll stay awake
                                                     or go to bed late
                                                     but

                                        wait

   My bed can hold neither my head nor my soul
        because of the holes and lost metal poles
             no more a bed than a pile of wood
                  it cannot be used, while I am
                                                     a
                     f
                        e   w
                                        sc r   e
                                                          w
                                                       s
                                                      

        ­                                                                 ­       loose.