Death by Linen

By Oscar O’Neill-Pugh

Even now the pillow case

Shoves its way, into my face.

Through my undertow

And overhead,

I gasp for air

In my bed.


But even now

And even there

Sins of the flesh,

They don’t repair.

So say farewell,

My lungs get hot!

Love is blind.

Desire is not.


Image by Krista Mangulsone.