One

morning a mattress leaps
out a window. Dives, in search
of a pillow, no, actually
it seeks another lonely
mattress to cuddle up to
in the long and cold night.

It gallops down streets,
gazes into windows hoping,
for a glimpse of a bedpost,
a firm yet gentle mattress.

And so, it runs until one
night under a pocked,
bruised cheeked moon,
it locates its other half,
Mildred, alone, and leaning
against a green dumpster
both blooming with ripeness.

The lonely mattress cozies up
beside Mildred, who
despite the wear, and stains,
holds herself high, and yes
leans into the warmth.

And so, it continues, they
stand by each other,
and there is no more
loneliness, or panic
for they watch over
each other in the long
and lovely night—

why not? Why not
you, too, what else?

***

Mario Duarte is a Mexican American writer and an Iowa Writers’ Workshop graduate. His work has appeared in Jake, Mersey Review, and Octillo Review among others. He is the author of the poetry collection, To the Death of the Author, and the short story collection, My Father Called Us Monkeys.