Here is another poem I have been working on for my “Songs of the Body” collection.  As always, I would appreciate suggestions on how it might be improved.

Going to Bed

By Rebekah Devine

Going to bed without one’s beloved
is not as obstreperous as a young
lover might be wont to think.
Lying on the evergreen quilt, naked,
staring at the virginal ceiling, perplexed,
pondering the feeling of nakedness
though there is no one else in the room;
wondering at this first sense of
bareness in three years of marriage.
Glancing at the bodiless chair yawning
before the desk and the half-sipped mug of
cherry sencha, thinking how still,
how attentive is the room; the
dilapidated spider in the corner web –
surely its myriad eyes must perceive
the bereft body stretching, calm and
corpse-like, on the bed.
Smoothing the unmussed
space beneath the cobalt pillow,
feeling the itching Absence,
remembering the missing flesh.
No, the body torn asunder is not
as disastrous as young lovers are wont to think.
It is not as if this is the first time lovers
were naked and ashamed.