A Box For A Bed Poem by Kenneth Umunna

The rest in it is final
At least a bed it is
The weight all on the spinal
No sit or stand to come from this

The slumber in it is eternal
No waking hours in it
A bed so dark internal
For lights are far from it

The position in it is procedural
No stretch or cuddle in it
A bed that spells withdrawal
Your feelings are boxed in it

The rest in it not fatal
For rest in peace they say
The comfort in it is formal
Though there’s nothing you can say