29. 

 

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

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