Leave the bed unmade
︎︎︎ Joe Amato
︎ Feb 19, 2026
Leave the bed unmade,
sheets and covers rumpled,
let dust collect
and shroud this holy relic
of our long, last afternoon
before the votive roses, eight—
set in your thermos as a vase—
the florist said were only for today,
just today: they’d blossomed in such ecstasy
that they don’t blush at us, lying
hours on this ordinary altar, breath
upon breath, tangled past
discerning whose arm or leg it is
for one fits against the other
like a key cut for its lock
as the clouds break and sunlight
bathes your fair face
so your shut eyes blink:
it’s time to get up,
it’s late: the Kunsthaus closes at 6,
and we missed it yesterday,
so dress, put on your shoes,
leave the bed unmade.
sheets and covers rumpled,
let dust collect
and shroud this holy relic
of our long, last afternoon
before the votive roses, eight—
set in your thermos as a vase—
the florist said were only for today,
just today: they’d blossomed in such ecstasy
that they don’t blush at us, lying
hours on this ordinary altar, breath
upon breath, tangled past
discerning whose arm or leg it is
for one fits against the other
like a key cut for its lock
as the clouds break and sunlight
bathes your fair face
so your shut eyes blink:
it’s time to get up,
it’s late: the Kunsthaus closes at 6,
and we missed it yesterday,
so dress, put on your shoes,
leave the bed unmade.
Joe Amato is a writer and culture strategist based in San Francisco. He received an inaugural Passage Prize for poetry.
Also by Joe: Eau Fraiche
Also by Joe: Eau Fraiche