My bed sits atop.
My chest screeches on it every night.
My rectangular bed has three barbed fences.
My head slides under each to flail off itches.
My bed\'s brown bumper holds the scrolls.
My minds mount up a mountain on my mattress for arrows.
My bed is beside the east; waiting for early warmth.
My bed sits above.
My rest denies morning darts and evening blasts.
My bed is a germ; a teacher-
My teacher, an artist in a this parlor.
My dreams alight when yellow morning darts arrive.
My bed is a minion; a darling of my journey.
My bed knows my bosom swells with trails.
My bed is a decker where I could dream my days back.