Asylum
The windows are like boat windows, but made of plastic. Light is dark from trying to get through dirt. Good morning ladies, breakfast is here. Well, I would marmalade my arm.
II. Head like a locust, whirling in migraine. (My head howls off its socket.) TS Eliot, with his trousers rolled? They will sing for me. They will sing for me. They will sing for me.
III.
I’ll eat lunch within 15 minutes and am nervous. I take my first haldol without knowing what it does, watching a wedge of lake through my window. I grieve the color blue.
IV. 'Margaret's sorry fifty times a day.' A man with an apple tells her
friend. Thankfully, this is ‘overcomable.’ 'I knew a girl who looked like Elvis,' Margaret says. It turns out, she’s ‘awfulizing’ again.
V. Graham crackers and juice. I want to eat a numerical. The lake is dizzy this morning, fast back fast forth and I have gained
two pounds in two days. The lake doesn’t shift but it moves. The boats don’t come to the lake. Many of us don't enjoy a
warm breakfast, a warm beverage first thing in the morning. Susan forgets the platter lid! Sailboats are out on the lake! I eat.
Oh, so, much… They woke me at seven because they wanted to take my blood. Still
sleepy. Having diarrhea. Ambivalence toward or regarding the word ‘pecan.’
VI. We watch on TV how to put Jello into a pastry tube, squirt it carefully over soil and then plant seeds. We remember our own plants at home, dying from our illnesses.
VII. Hours pass, we have tea. The tea has caffeine (there is a new nurse who doesn’t know any better). Our windows are covered in ladybugs dying, their red gone orange, and we are on the 9th floor.
I nap, dream of my dead one and railroad tracks. (Earlier, I fell
down. A silver stripe lit up inside the lake. Two sailboats crashed
in it. I cried I held my rabbit tightly. I went into the quiet room.)
Make it around the ark. What beautiful memory. A cape of bees, a cinnamon skin of some worth.
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