True

 

My Mind

 
A crowded emergency room experience in a Nova Scotian hospital pre-2020
 
This nurse took my spectacles:
Put in an I.V.
 
That nurse took my blouse and jeans.
Put me in a Johnny shirt.
 
Said this will give me more time.
I asked a question...
 
Another nurse took my blood.
The answer is not in my blood.
 
See?
My mind is Ok. 
 
People pass as shadows and murmurs.
I want to see their beauty,
But must be hidden in ugly words
 
See?
My mind is ok
 
I hear: “She should be dead.”
I hear: “And have the right to choose.”
I hear: “Waste of food, wasted food.”
 
You see
Baby, my mind. 
 
My mind holds the memories:
I toss a balloon to my grandchild,
We are young and able.
 
My mind is…
Ok.
 
I hear a nurse: “her eyes are sunk so deep.”
My eyes? Where are all the mirrors?
I hear my daughter: “She needs her own room.”
 
Don't worry.
My mind is waiting
In a room of ugly words.
 
 
Tears fall from my mind.
I see…
I see…
 
I remember the day I couldn't get out of bed on my own.
I stopped worrying about being pretty enough.
I hear my daughter, a baby in her arms: “my mom needs her own room.”
 
I hear: my daughter weep.
I hear: the arrival of food.
I hear: “waste.”
 
And my daughter weep.
See, my daughter,
Is not ok with this.
 
“Bring me apple juice, I like apple juice.”
I want,
I still want…
 
My mind
Is.
 
Rest assured,
She doesn’t know
Wait, what is happening.
 
Oh, she was with us
There for a moment.
How was she yesterday?
 
I hear my daughter: She needs her own room.
I say: “Don't worry.”
I do though.
 
Because my mind
Is Ok.
 
I wait; in the promise of more time.
In a crowd. My heart beating
Blood through my ears.
 
Can I have my own room
You know?
My mind is ok.

My Execution

… and on the day of my execution

 I will wear a white pants suit 

… and you will witness each
Drop of blood, as it stains

Every bit of independence
Your sovereign

Stole
From me

Cotton Candy Clouds

 

Seeds of Sanctuary

 Seeds of Sanctuary

Ascending creaky steps

Is a mouse with sticky fur

She bites a bit of soft wind:

Her nose starts to shiver.

 

Whiskers sigh and speak

Of sadness, her sanctuary,

Stale and sleepy from age

Slighted by snow and time,

 

But not neglect.

She unwraps herself:

From scarf and mittens

She leaves a smouldering fire

 

To toss her seeds

Down splintering steps

Watching them scatter

Across barren floors

 

Each kernel a small invitation

Of hope; a sign to her friends

Of new “Love and warmth.”

Love sprouts, warmer than embers

 

She believes, as mice do

That next year winter won’t

Descend upon the sanctuary

And leave her alone another year.