BEDROOM WISDOMS

the bed is trying to eat me;
mattress wide and pillows bearing,
duvet licking between my legs
and salivating August sweat stains –
not so sweet as early June;
more savoury, like dead skin cells
from body, head, mind
dandruff philosophies running beaded
around the brain, through the scalp
and into the hair; chasing pairs
of oxygen, hoping to inhale bedroom wisdoms
and deliver them to the edges of the pupils,
wider and wider opening –
permanent fox-in-torchlight stares;
thoughts found in battery gold,
blinking into nothing
before becoming
the insides of a star.