Concluded: Six Weeks Bed-ridden – by Mary Christine Delea

The world is not conclusion.—Emily Dickinson

The planet is not a bedroom weighed down
by pillows, cats, and an overflowing ashtray.
The seasons are not changing from this viewpoint.
The body is not resolved,
temperate, calm, relaxed,
nor is it flowing smoothly
through the air, which is not at rest.
The bed is not cohesive.
The books are not readable, words not connecting
with one another or the brain—the piles
of books are not in motion.
The clock is not constant.
The feet are not strong enough, but are chipped,
hard, peeling like cheap paint on an old barn.
The leg is not colorless.
The blood is not able,
not pulsing, not moving,
not doing. The body does not see beyond that.
The mind knows there is more,
knows the clot will kill or eventually go away.
But for now, the mind
has concluded that the planet is not a bedroom,
but it is only this bedroom, this bed.


Mary Christine Delea is a native of Long Island’s South Shore, now living in Oregon. She is a former university professor who now volunteers for various organizations. She was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize, and has had poetry in, or will soon have poems in, Divot Poetry, {Alternate Route}, Harpur Palate, and MORIA. Her website is; it contains a blog where Delea posts writing prompts on Sundays.