“Memory Foam”
by Spencer E. Carr

A dirtbag mattress flopped all stained and frameless in the corner
wakes suddenly and feels its face—the rictus of a mourner—
eyes the fringe of clothing
sloping to the carpet
with a pout
and sips bourbon that helps slur this lullaby to pass back out:

“Sound and runes, convey me to the honey, wax, and cream
when I lay down to conjure up a revolutionary dream
Where blinds are torn away down in the darkness of the deep
I raise my arms against the light because I only want to sleep”