The Iron Bed

All women of my family gave birth lying on the iron bed
all women of my family passed away lying on it.
Four generations were born and died
in the iron bed.
And now I decided
I can’t stand to see it anymore;
it carries more sadness than joy.
I threw it in the garbage
and found it in my backyard the next morning.
I called a junkie to take it,
he locked up his door that night,
but the bed was in my backyard in the morning.
I gave it away to be destroyed
I was there when the press machine broke it
into thousands of rusty pieces.
The next morning it was in the backyard
without a scratch.
I understood that
I’ll never get rid of it.
It stands quietly over the fallen leaves.
under the courtyard tree,
its joints are now rusty
it’s been battered by rain and storms
but it still waits.
It waits for my death.