Sheets to Die For



Sheets to Die For

This sheet must never touch the

This sheet must be folded a special

This sheet cannot be rolled up
and thrown into the closet like a regular sheet

You must place your hand up in the air
whenever you see it, I mean
over your heart

People must be beaten
and die for this sheet

shit, I mean shit



What is it you want to tell me
after all this time?
What is it now, here
at 2 o’clock in the morning
Is it that your life is safely away from me
that you’re moving to another town
that you fell and broke your arm
that your kids never call you anymore
and that it’s lonely
and that you’re getting married
and moving to Bermuda
to pour what’s left of me in you
into the ocean
that you’re done with all this
destiny crap, this fate
this us bullshit
that the universe misspoke
when it spoke
our names
and all you do is call to tell me this
on your honeymoon, drunk
telling me I am the ocean
and the ocean is being emptied
and it’s still beautiful
and it still has waves
and you cry every time you see it

and you cry
every time
you see it

and I say to you baby don’t cry baby
it’s only the bottle that
was us
and it was sad and it was sweet
and it was beautiful
and like all bottles
it always gets lost to the waves
lost to the moonlight
lost to time
lost to whatever

And you cry baby and pour it out
pour it out
every last drop of me
into the moonlight
sagging above the deep
I drift away from you
and the phone hangs up



David Groulx was raised in Ontario, Canada. He is proud of his Aboriginal roots, Anishnabe and French Canadian. He has published 11 books of poetry. His poetry has appeared in over 200 magazines in 16 countries. See Poetry in Voice.