Poem: Respite

Posted: November 5, 2014 in Uncategorized

The doctor said I needed rest,
so I checked out of the asylum,
and left last month.
I looked back and patients
stared down from barred windows
I pitied them; they were all mad.
 The old car that brought
me waited and I climbed in.
Glad to be free, floating through
dark and winding hills that
led me through heavy fog.
It crept in and smothered the car,
on the second road that ended and
left me afoot,
enclosed in a cyclone of dirt
I walked a two-lane dirt path.
to find help.
Near dark, my backpack dragged me
down to the ground.
And then I saw the old house.
 I needed sleep and would head
out in the morning.
Just an old house, I thought,
what harm could it do?
So I slammed weathered doors behind me.
That’s when I heard slithering noises.
Hands to ears, I tried to shut the sounds out.
Headed for the door; it
was locked tighter than a drum.
Desolation set in and
tears weaved bloody streams
down my face-I tasted blood
and clawed at my face.
Nothing usable there except bed
springs and a quilt, so I crashed.
I needed rest like the doctor said,
and medication I’d refused.
That’s when I heard crawling
and moving, and  sliding on the
walls and cross the floors.
I saw vipers–slimy, slithering things with eyes.
Worse than roaches I stepped on.
They crunched beneath my shoes.
My body, my life was squeezed in a vice.
They crawled up walls till
there were no walls,
only dark, wiggling masses
with raised heads and fangs that dripped blood.
One slithered in my room
on its belly-and turned its head
from side to side.
it laced me to the bed.
It guarded me in waking or sleep
and hissed and smiled with
dripping fangs. I missed the clinic;
and wanted them to come get me,
for I was as mad, as the ones left behind.
I looked at my watch
and it was a new day,
It’s dark before it starts
and dark after the sun.
I saw no difference.
One viper guarded me and said
I’d never escape. It
bragged that youth slipped
through my fingers, long ago.
 It boasted and called me old.
It said I’d die here
where grass never grew,
in the devil’s yard.
except under the floorboards.
I shook and pulled the quilt
over my head. When I peeped,
I saw it all under moonlight.
The viper pulled on a shawl,
wrapped itself tight, and
sat in a corner rocking chair.
Licking it’s fangs and sleeping.
                   While I screamed!
  1. […] you to read it. Another of her poems that I connected to in the most shattering of ways is titled Respite. I’ve lived this experience, so I was able to relate well to it. I won’t post it here […]


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