Sheets By Max Goodman

I need to be wrapped.

Tight.

In the white-starched sheets

Of a funeral parlour.

I’ll lay

Silent and still

With small wet breaths.

Swaddled like a newborn.

My pure rebirth.

Recent Posts

‘The silence was heavy with eternity’ (Rose Tremain, Sacred Country) The room vibrated an empty sound, My fingers brushed the thin new...

I’m your online operator. A ‘surgeon simulator’ if you will. A single, white-gloved finger eradicating earthly ills. Specimens on my wall...

Compressed thumbs numb Tucked between Chair arms and thighs Numbed dead like The amygdala of my brain. He who pressed his groin Against...