The bed is ugly
In a beautiful rusty way,
As if someone had neglected it,
Had failed to shine it,

Had failed to rub oil on it,
The bed has red hurt patches as if
Skin rash of rust,
How can we rub the red-brown

Rust off?
Will we need sandpaper
hands? The rust has built up like
a skin upon a skin

like a poem where you typed “skin” but
an elderly lady with white hands full of veins
typed “sin”
there goes that poem, icky

now it contains allegories, icky
white hands like cracking paper full of veins
The bed is ugly
In a beautifully rusted way

With all kinds of
Encrustations
As if paint dug into its pores
And thickened and filled up beneath