A Worn Mattress
What care you where he seeks to lay his head
Only the imprint of a man remains
Restrained, restricted, weighted down with chains
In that space alongside you on the bed;
At least he is living that once was dead
His few losses are far offset by gains
For he no longer feels those longing pains
Rejoicing to be more alive than dead.
Why enquire after this refugee
Why speak his name or seek his attention
Why conjure his image from memory
He cares not about your situation
And he wishes he had never reclined
On the worn mattress of your temptation.
David Subacchi lives in Wales (UK) where he was born of Italian roots. He is a graduate of the University of Liverpool and has published four poetry collections in English: First Cut (2012), Hiding in Shadows (2014), Not Really a Stranger (2016) and A Terrible Beauty (2016). He writes also in Welsh and Italian. David’s Blog is to be found at http://www.writeoutloud.net/profiles/davidsubacchi.