Making the Bed

We face each other.
The object of our common purpose, a rectangle of white,
Lies knee-high between us.
I stand on my side, you stand on yours,
Making up the bed for another week.

First comes the bottom sheet, fitted like a purse
To the shape of our mattress by a puckered edge of elastic.
We stretch it tight and tug it over the mattress corners.
The mattress bends upward like a canoe:
Our bed of dreams.

Next is the top sheet, which you unfurl.
It sinks to the bed like a parachute, with a white, clothesline smell.
We spread it out, making sure that the portion of the sheet
That hangs off each side is the same.
After that we spread out the blue blanket
That was a wedding present from a maiden aunt.
The tattered edging is all that remains
Of a well mannered pet cat, long dead.
On top of the blue blanket we drape the heavy, bone-white wool blanket,
That was woven on a farm in Aroostook County by my great-grandmother
Nearly eighty years ago. Little did she know
How well it would keep us warm, so many years later.
When its weight presses and holds us snug in the dark
As the winter winds blow.

As we work we talk and laugh about little things,
Or go about our task in comfortable silence,
All the time smoothing, straightening, and tucking the edges in tightly.
The bed frame adds its own comments with a squeak or a creak
From time to time: the comments of an old maple bed
My wife's parents once slept upon.

The blankets are in place now; we add the finishing touches.
You prefer to hospital corners for your side.
It doesn't matter to me how the blankets are tucked in,
Just as long as a midnight tug doesn't bring them riding
Up over my shins, leaving my feet in the cold.
You fold your side with care. I push the blankets
Under my side of the mattress with a knife-like jab.
The bed, though small, can accomodate
Such differences in folding and tucking philosophies.

Now we stuff each pillow into its cotton sack.
There are four: two pillows are used under each head
For reading, but only one apiece is needed for sleep.
Then, at last, we lay out the bedspread.
It is white, heavy and tufted. You know the name
Of the pattern; I have forgotten it.
Finally we ease the last wrinkles out
By pinching the bedspread between
Thumb and forefinger, then tugging gently.

We straighten up. We have finished.
The bed lies trim and tidy between us.
It is thus we change the sheets once a week,
Working together, apart yet near.
Devoted to the common goal of making smooth, neat,
And comfortable our bed of marriage.