I remember the voice of a nurse

with a kind forehead,

named nancy,

the name i called her

because i kept forgetting her real name


who spoke for me,

when i couldn’t speak


i miss her;

i miss her telling me


everything’s going to be ok


i’m sure she knew


everything was not going to be ok 


i open up the package

with the shopper’s drugmart logo;

it rattles, 

with bottles and pills

the sound of unwanted change

a new dance with no steps begins


my belief is now distant, on the run,

leaving little pieces of my history to gather up


i wanted to believe nancy

because she wanted to believe

when she said


everything will be alright

in time


i lay down 

the last time i slept in this bed

it was porcupine needles

tonight it holds my eroding skin, 

it sticks to my back

i can’t be less comfortable now


closing my eyes;

i think of leaving the pink skies

warm silver clouds,

of coming to a home

that is unknown to me


i remember everything

when i close my eyes

and think i’m asleep;


the glittering cracks in the ceiling:


that refract the light shapes,

that live in clown mirrors,

that distort the time i missed,

that reflect the contours 

of my wished-for face

into a space and time;

that is only mine;


this what has become of me

for the foreseeable future

coming to a home