Flip it on the Solstice and rotate on the Equinox

the salesman said—but the mattress
is too heavy to flip it by myself,
on the queen-size bed bought
when there was a lover in my life,
a lover whose needs of space
might have been an early flag,
red, a warning that I would in time
fall off the edge of all that distance,
making room in her life for the next
unwary soul, perhaps this time
someone with a king-size bed.










Kali Lightfoot lives in Salem, MA. Her poetry has appeared in several journals and anthologies including Lavender Review, and Poetry South. Kali was once a wilderness ranger in the U.S. Forest Service, and later founding Director of the National Resource Center for Osher Lifelong Learning Institutes. www.kali-lightfoot.com

See more of Kali's work in 6.1 here and here.