The Location of Sadness

The Queen bed holds

the wreckage 

of a Non-Queen 

The Virgin Suicides split open

The litter of self:

Sand speckles twisted sheets

Fist fulls of tissues 

Crimson lipstick stains flaccid pillow case

Strays of black hair in an outline of Italy

Every light is off

inside

Label it depression

Say it's a quarter life crisis 

Call it whatever name you want for coping—

poorly

In her flat universe

the Queen bed is the center of all life