not deep enough

The bed is deep
I burrow under the covers,
making a rut.
I nestle my head into a pillow
and try to forget.

The bed is deep
sucking me in
to unfinished dreams and
layers of guilty sleep
where I try not to remember

The bed is deep,
but I still remember
the night you ran off in a
stormy anger and
I
devastated,
swallowed the
whole
bottle

Of Perkaset from your last visit
to the dentist,
I chased it with a glass of wine
and let the tears stream
as I picked up the phone
to call for help

They tied me down as they
pumped
my
stomach,
full of black oozing charcoal--
the little Italian nurse held my hand
and smiled

And when you showed up at the
hospital,
(the next day)
The bed was not deep enough.
It wasn’t deep enough to hide me from you.