“I’m bored too, believe me.”
That was how I spoke to you.
“My kingdom for a conversation!”
You were right, I had to be broken.

The one time I roused myself,
I strewed heather where we’d lain
bowered by a boyish-blue coverlet.
(Darling!) (Our soundtrack swelling—)

A littered bed. Litter, from the Latin for bed.
A kindle of rabbits. A stretcher for the dead.