In This Asylum --

turn down this aisle,

strapped to a gurney,

Prayers up to Jesus,

Mary and Paul -- She

saw me there, Splintered

in the Light,

shuddering

with the dope

Shot in my Veins; --

I was

a Violent Sister, a

Sudden widow, I

carved the World

from Lava and

heat, Structuring

cloudscapes

to fit my Whims

of Creation,

As the Ancients dictated

with forked tongues,

there by the fireside, While

Bathsheeba bathed

in her Moontime, I

wept for the Cleansing, a quiet David

certain with Pain, I

Stop and Faint -- I drink the Poison

and Awake

again with tubes

in my hands, my nostrils, my

Throat -- this

the Sudden Remonstrance

of a bitter Memory, call

it suffering, the skilled

Omission

of a querulous Birth --

*