on beds I chose
or were chosen for me
as an infant in a wooden crib
perched beside a white wall
finger-painting from a diaper
as a toddler on a double
where my sister tricked me
into making the bed
a game hiding
under the sheets
talking in my sleep
laughing pigs have no tails
on a Quaker frame
slats smashing to the ground
as I rolled on my side
scaring my brother
throwing
his stuffed animal
across the room
in a low-ceilinged
attic
pulling
blankets up
around
my neck
to ward off
Barnabas Collins
from Dark Shadows
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