A POEM WITHIN A POEM

So here I am, Muri, another few days into your National Poetry Month Challenge, trying out another new form. The WALTMARIE is a compact powerhouse: a small poem with an even smaller poem hidden inside. Like the fortune cookie of the poetry world.

The inspiration for this one came from a Christmas gift I bought myself. My old pillow had lost a lot of feathers (thanks to Tailor) and was flat as a pancake, flatter than even I like it. I’m mildly allergic to feathers so I bought a synthetic PrimaLoft one from LL Bean; it was too poofy and I had to return it. In December, I wound up with $15 of Kohl’s cash in my wallet. The shelf life on Kohl’s cash is short and if you don’t use it, you lose it. So I puttered around the store looking for something to spend it on. Lo and behold, I found a premium king-sized memory foam pillow that retails for over $100, on sale for $49. With my Kohl’s cash, it would be just $34. I don’t usually care for memory foam—it gets too hot—but this pillow has a “soothing, cool gel cover.” I pressed my hand into the floor model and it was, indeed, cool. It was of a suitable height, about four inches, and could be returned if it didn’t live up to my expectations. What did I have to lose?? Cha-ching went my credit card. I took it home, wrapped it, and slipped it under the Christmas tree. The next morning, I woke up with my neck stiff and sore, as if my old pillow had beaten me during the night. I made a command decision; I unwrapped Mr. Memory Foam, sheathed him in a clean pillow case, and propped him on my bed. I carefully re-wrapped the box he had come in and slid it back under the tree. So it wouldn’t look as though St. Nick had snubbed me, you know? I’ve slept on it every night since and attest that it’s worth every penny I paid for it.

DEAR PILLOW

Every night,
I rest
comfortably and easily,
my head
warm and heavy
on your
broad, memory foam
shoulder
where I release my cares
and dream