"Two Views of a Discarded Mattress" by Cate Marvin

[View this email on a browser]( [Forward to a friend]( [facebook-icon]( [tumblr-icon]( [twitter-icon]( July 15, 2019 [Two Views of a Discarded Mattress]( [Cate Marvin]( 1. Propped against a tree on a sidewalk next to the trash cans, shorn of sheets, its fabric a casing for its coils, harborer of secretions seeped and dried, its phosphorous surface glitters abandoned skin flakes in moonlight, shingles from roof sides of humans. Mucous trails pearlescent from a snail crawled up the trunk of the tree upon which this bed formerly slept on now leans. Loved upon? Perhaps. Dreamt on most definitely. Hands on skin most definitely, the stains it harbors are the trails of dreams, the shotguns aimed at baby carriages, molars boring holes into the palm upon which they are cast like dice, and the mystery of love as scratchy and fine smelling as the needle tree that carried you off with its scent of resin: it’s a hideous thing. 2. Sheet marks on the face won’t disappear into the water filling the basin. Under the eyes dark lakes before the resinous reflection of window cast into mirror by interior lights set against the night. Do you wonder if I dream of your shattering? Marks on the face don’t melt into the water. It would be strange to dream that hard for a stranger, even for you who became strange within an hour. Yet, I am waking from the press of your face against my face. Carried off over the shoulder, hauled through doorways, receiving your murder, once this mattress was bent at its middle, sagged profuse as a gaping blouse, and bore stains of which I was never aware while asleep. You knew. You were there too. You will dream of congress between us. I withdraw my hand. I refuse. Haul me away. [Like this on Facebook]( [Share via Twitter]( Copyright © 2019 Cate Marvin. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on July 15, 2019, by the Academy of American Poets. [Marvin reads "Two Views of a Discarded Mattress."]( About This Poem “A discarded mattress propped up against a tree on a street in Portland, Maine, provided the impetus for this poem. In the first ‘view,’ I was somewhat morbidly compelled to consider its life of servitude to the bodies that had once rested, struggled, loved, dreamed atop it. In the second ‘view,’ I cast my attention to a mattress I myself had once discarded: the speaker is unable to banish certain memories, and so this mattress becomes, in recollection, a battlefield of sorts.” —Cate Marvin [Cate Marvin]( Cate Marvin’s most recent book of poems is Oracle (W. W. Norton, 2015). She is a professor of English and creative writing at the City University of New York—College of Staten Island, and is also on the poetry faculty at the Stonecoast MFA program in creative writing. She lives in Scarborough, Maine. Photo Credit: Rex Lott [more-at-poets]( [Oracle]( Poetry by Marvin [Oracle]( (W. W. Norton, 2015) "Our Bed Is Also Green" by Josh Bell [read-more]( "Nursing" by L. Lamar Wilson [read-more]( "Shape" by Carolina Ebeid [read-more]( July Guest Editor: Paul Guest Thanks to [Paul Guest](, author of Because Everything Is Terrible (Diode Editions, 2018), who curated Poem-a-Day for this month’s weekdays. Read a [Q&A with Guest]( about his curatorial approach this month and find out more about our [guest editors for the year.]( [make a one-time donation]( [illustration]( [Small-Blue-RGB-poets.org-Logo]( Thanks for being a part of the Academy of American Poets community. To learn about other programs, including National Poetry Month, Poem in Your Pocket Day, the annual Poets Forum, and more, visit [Poets.org](. You are receiving this e-mail because you elected to subscribe to our mailing list. If you would like to unsubscribe, please click [here](. © Academy of American Poets 75 Maiden Lane, Suite 901, New York, NY 10038