Time in the Burn Ward
and Other Poems

Time in the Burn Ward

Maybe I split in two, witnessed my mind
like a fly on a broken clock.

Maybe the window, high up, let me watch the dusk
as it was entered by night. Buzzards

etching thin lines in the clouds. The flags
below me, cleaning their bucking sides in the wind.

I missed my horse. Amazed
I once galloped bareback in a bikini and an open bathrobe.

Maybe my life was never mine. I only passed through it,
smudged by whatever I looked at or remembered.

Daffodils. Stained-glass wings of migrating monarchs.
My brother’s eyes when he caught a spiral.

Maybe what snapped in me
was my hardness. I lengthened inside the pills,

learned the shiver-love of being threaded with IVs.
Flowers burning like candles in a death room.

Burned Body Contemplates the
Bottom Sheets

People on couch
To continue reading please sign in.
Join for free