Sweet Night (poem)

Sweet Night

Skin tossed onto the chair
spine tucked under the bed
eyes in a glass
legs in the closet
hands in a basket on a bookshelf
tongue in a lockbox
ears under the pillow
lungs and brain on the windowsill
in the fresh air
(attic fan on, of course)
—for the next few hours
I won’t trouble the world.
It can rest up
for tomorrow.
And it should.

— Carl Bettis
2025-10-12

Halloween Day 12