The Position in  General   

They let me in. I went right up to the nursery
and climbed into the crib, and assumed the famous
fetal position.

They didn't know what to make of it. They stood
by the crib looking down at me.

They were young. This was their house. Instead
of an infant, a grown man is in the nursery.

Of course they hadn't planned on anything like
this. It never occurred to them that anything
like this could happen.

I had made my move. All I could do was to keep
the position, pretending to sleep . . .

By Russell Edson

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Other poems by Russell Edson:

• A Historical Breakfast
• A Journey Through The Moonlight
• A Performance At Hog Theater
• Accidents
• Angels
• Antimatter
• Ape
• Ape And Coffee
• Conjugal
• Counting Sheep
• Elephant Dormitory
• Erasing Amyloo
• Grass
• Hands
• Mr. Brain
• On The Eating Of Mice
• One Lonely Afternoon
• Paying The Captain
• Sleep
• Soup Song
• The Alfresco Moment
• The Autopsy
• The Breast
• The Bridge
• The Changeling
• The Closet
• The Death Of A Fly
• The Fall
• The Family Monkey
• The Father Of Toads
• The Fight
• The Floor
• The Gentlemen In The Meadow
• The Having To Love Something Else
• The Lighted Window
• The Man Rock
• The Marionettes Of Distant Masters
• The Melting
• The Ox
• The Pattern
• The Philosophers
• The Pilot
• The Position
• The Reason Why The Closet-Man Is Never Sad
• The Road
• The Sad Message
• The Theory
• The Toy-Maker
• The Tree
• The Wounded Breakfast
• Vomit
• You