WHY I WILL NOT GET OUT OF BED

JAMES TATE

My muscles unravel

like spools of ribbon:

there is not a shadow

of pain. I will pose

like this for the rest

of the afternoon,

for the remainder

of all noons. The rain

is making a valley

of my dim features.

I am in Albania,

I am on the Rhine.

It is autumn,

I smell the rain,

I see children running

through columbine.

I am honey,

I am several winds.

My nerves dissolve,

my limbs wither—

I don’t love you.

I don’t love you.