She never did come good,
no permanent move
from shadow into light,
no herb, medication or prayer
liberated her for long,
instead, chlorpromazine's spasms –
'twisties' we called them –
drove our family mad.
She’s dead
but the smoke of madness
drifts from her pyre,
slides under our door
obscures the window,
and hides the moon.
No comments:
Post a Comment