Sand from a beach-woman's feet,
crumbs from something I ate,
books, pens, notebooks, socks--
none of such stuff in bed
ever bothered me. Still:
fresh sheets, especially
when a person's gripped
by flu--celestial comfort.
There's something mournful
and small--not rising to the level
of tragedy--about a stripped bed.
It's as if Sleep up and quit
that room and moved on
to another town.
--Hans Ostrom, 2012
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