“Bed Snakes”

Saturday, November 15, 2025--Poetry Day 15

Purple Foxglove along the Oregon Coast

“Bed snakes”

Trying to get up
this morning was weird.
Really.
Couldn’t understand
why the lethargy,
why the paralysis
wouldn’t let me rise up
and climbed out of bed.
I decided it was bed snakes,
attached to my left wrist
and then my right,
then headed south
to each foot.
My eyes could not open,
would not open,
refused to open.
Some sticky goo held them fast.
I fought for a while,
used up all my strength,
then succumbed to it all,
and lay quite for time.
I don’t know how long.
Soon, the sun’s rays peeked
through the opening
in the curtain.
I sensed something changing.
Immediately, I was free.
free at last,
my eyes opening
with deliberation and poetry.
My arms and legs and I
swung my feet over
the side of my bed,
hope rising
with each movement.
Soon I was standing,
happy to be alive
and awake,
feeling safe
that the bed snakes
had slithered back
to their hiding places
beneath my bed
where they waited

surreptitiously  
for another morning
to strike again.