Body/Clock

I have no use for this bed.
My feet dangle off the end, as if
Reaching for the light
Pouring mellifluously into
A puddle on the floor; it seeps
Into the carpet, spills onto the hardwood.
Eyes ajar, so early!

Yet I lie on my side, examining
The wall⎯what else should I do?

I have already drunk the juice
That will prolong my lover’s existence, and
I have already one less cigarette with the rest.

So I lie supine,
Sinking
Into the pillow, drowning in Varathane,
Watching the sun glint off the surface...