Unwelcome
A poem

Beneath the sheets, the bed’s skeleton creaks below its decaying mattress tomb. I lay sideways, knowing that, were I to stand, the metallic bones would stab through and incapacitate my weary traveler’s feet.
I roll over and take a sharp inhale when it jabs at my back with its rusty ribs. Its spine curls harshly against my own. My dreams jostle me, restless and frail; it seems sleep is unwelcome here in this place they call an “accommodation.”
