A BED UNMADE

By Alice kuo shippee

Sometimes it’s beautiful to leave 

A bed unmade

To walk away from a night’s sleep

And the immediate responsibility of morning

Having to prove to myself

And the world

That I’m put together

And can handle things

I can’t always

But I handle the things that most need it

And that is not my bed

My husband, he makes the bed

Not aesthetically

But pulls up the corners

A job done to start the day 

With that feeling of accomplishment

Pretty sure Ferris and Goggins and Peterson

Would be proud

My husband would have done well

In the pressed creases of the military

Doing everything just so

On a schedule etched in stone

A right way and a wrong way

But he’s an artist so instead

He lives in the areas that are

Gray and rainbow

Leaving the bed a wrinkled heap

Is my rebellion 

The way I start each morning

Saying no to the expectations

Like keeping my pubic hair

In a world wherein women’s vulvas 

Are as bald as hard boiled eggs

Does the body’s fur really offend so much?

Like a messy bed

Needing to be smooth and without folds

Tucked in tight and pretty

My bed unmade is my morning acceptance

That I leave a bit of chaos where I go

Even when I rest

Beds are mussed when sex is had

When dreams turn us over

When kids climb in

I’m not so quick to erase those marks

Of living and of loving

Because both leave us tossed in a heap

And any trying to make it pretty 

Is temporary

A pause

Wherein we think we control

Anything