Bertha Stretched Upon Her Bed Poem by Karin Holloway

Bertha stretched upon her bed
is no repose of classic lure
but sinew taut as ropey tendrils
tersed to dancing synaptic shorts,
now she bobbles 'stead of squares.
Says she has the power,
sees them on the ceiling
or standing by her bed.
They bring roses.
Mamma and Aunt, little sister,
friends from ancient Kentucky
come to smile and stare
and turn to shadow if she speaks.
Poor old Bertha isn't done
just mostly done upon.