Look at me –
just standing here in torrents.
Brown pain in rusty fluid-
it flows from my back-
I have a pic line to drain for that
I have sin fingers
I have cut off toes
I have a heart pump shut off
emergency switch for
when things get too cold.
Crutches of chocolate, broken leg-brace candy canes
can’t fix this hurt
no therapy
ghost dog walks halls
in the My Head Hospital
no Wish Network only
the overworked brown
veins, they carry the pain
the tainted fluid, back and forth
one way to breakfast-time, then
back to the nurses’ station at lunch-time
bleach n scrub; rinse n filter
– as if it would do some good.
Back in time for meds at supper-time, and card game hour:
Jeopardy is on.
Alex asks –
This… goes on forever.
I mouth silent shapes, choke on bad-words:
What is, depression
Photo by Tiago Bandeira on Unsplash
Elisabeth Horan
Elisabeth Horan is a poet mother student lover of kind people and animals, homesteading in Vermont with her tolerant partner and two young sons. She writes to survive and survives to write - We are all battling something. Let's support each other. Elisabeth enjoys riding horses and caring for her cats, chickens, goats and children (not necessarily in that order). She teaches at River Valley Community College in New Hampshire.
