Memoir

On a stretcher they wheeled me
3 am in the morning
A time when insanity breeds
And multiplies like cockroaches
Beneath the nail beds of the city streets.

Looking at the clock
It was the last one I would see for two days.
No time in those fluorescent hallways
Only three meals and the mumbling
Ukrainian roommate;
She saw squirrels.
Walls covered in red crayon
From my predecessor:
“Lions are coming to get you…
Eat your eyes”

Eyes that could not look at my unfamiliar
Reflection the mirror or the barred windows.
Locked in this ward
Locked in our own minds
Prisoners of a sick joke and Lakeshore Hospital.
Thelma quoted Gideon’s bible;
Eyes wild pacing red lettered words
As she paced the hall her diaper sagging with each step.

I kept my head down
Don’t seem too happy or they will think you are in denial
Don’t seem too sad or they will think you are suicidal
Don’t talk too much to others or they will think you are schizophrenic
Don’t keep too quiet or they will think you hear your own voices
Don’t be alone too much or they will think you are anti social
Don’t be anything ….be nothing and somehow they will keep
Their vigilant eyes that gloss over you as empty vases
Holding no water for these thirsty dregs of society.

The only friend I made was my mattress
And the bare tree outside my window
The crinkle of the mattress cover reminded
Me that my heart had not crashed through my ribs
To stop beating on the sterile linoleum.
The bare tree bore its own faults in nakedness
Each twisted limb and broken branch became its beauty.
It held no mocking leaves to flaunt hope.

Hope was never a light burden to carry
a pendent around my neck pulling my face,a memoir,
Towards the concrete.
To be hopeless is to learn hope.
To posses hope is to crush its gentle wings
No, it is in release, that hope finds
A way to burst open doors
And call you back to life;
The simple rhythm of feet,
Leaves and breath on the Chicago sidewalk.