You sit in a chair opposite
The psychiatrist; he sits
Forward, his hands in prayer
Mode, his chin resting there,
His eyes focusing on you.
When can I leave? You ask.
Once you are well, Maxine.
I am well, you reply, leaning
Forward, I want out of this
Madhouse. The psychiatrist
Leans back taking his hands
With him. We need to find
What made you do things,
He says. Do things? What
Things? Suicide attempts,
He says calmly, slit wrists,
Overdose. You stare at him,
Take in his baldness, his thick
Lenses glasses. What do you
Know of things, you mutter.
States of mind are states of
Mind…you shrinks always
Have to search for meanings
Behind things. There is a pause.
He looks at you; you can sense
His eyes trying to feel their
Way inside your brain. You
Look away around the room.
Certificates on the walls, his
Probably. Photographs on his
Desk; family, kids, wife, smiling.
Comfortable. Bourgeoisie.
We do get well, Maxine. Takes
Time, but they do it, he says softly.
You look at his lips moving; think
Lips. You wonder what his wife
Feels when those touch hers.
You have made some progress,
He says, I’ve seen elements of
You making positive moves
Forward. Medication helps.
You notice he has a gold tooth,
It seems to glitter in the light.
However, we need to find the
Casual factors, Maxine, he states,
Leaning forward again, his hand
Picking up a pen, twisting it.
He has hairs in his nose, a few
Protrude. Why you tried to slit
Your wrists or tried to OD. Did I?
Your voice says. Me? There is
Dandruff on his dark coat.
Snow like. Your neighbour
Found you, he says, holding
The pen in both hands. She was
Most concerned. I hope so, your
Voice mutters. You stare at the
Photograph of his family; his wife
Has a sickly smile. Your mother
Smiled liked that, you remember,
When she strangled your pet cat.
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 3:41 AM UTC
You sit in a chair opposite
The psychiatrist; he sits
Forward, his hands in prayer
Mode, his chin resting there,
His eyes focusing on you.
When can I leave? You ask.
Once you are well, Maxine.
I am well, you reply, leaning
Forward, I want out of this
Madhouse. The psychiatrist
Leans back taking his hands
With him. We need to find
What made you do things,
He says. Do things? What
Things? Suicide attempts,
He says calmly, slit wrists,
Overdose. You stare at him,
Take in his baldness, his thick
Lenses glasses. What do you
Know of things, you mutter.
States of mind are states of
Mind…you shrinks always
Have to search for meanings
Behind things. There is a pause.
He looks at you; you can sense
His eyes trying to feel their
Way inside your brain. You
Look away around the room.
Certificates on the walls, his
Probably. Photographs on his
Desk; family, kids, wife, smiling.
Comfortable. Bourgeoisie.
We do get well, Maxine. Takes
Time, but they do it, he says softly.
You look at his lips moving; think
Lips. You wonder what his wife
Feels when those touch hers.
You have made some progress,
He says, I’ve seen elements of
You making positive moves
Forward. Medication helps.
You notice he has a gold tooth,
It seems to glitter in the light.
However, we need to find the
Casual factors, Maxine, he states,
Leaning forward again, his hand
Picking up a pen, twisting it.
He has hairs in his nose, a few
Protrude. Why you tried to slit
Your wrists or tried to OD. Did I?
Your voice says. Me? There is
Dandruff on his dark coat.
Snow like. Your neighbour
Found you, he says, holding
The pen in both hands. She was
Most concerned. I hope so, your
Voice mutters. You stare at the
Photograph of his family; his wife
Has a sickly smile. Your mother
Smiled liked that, you remember,
When she strangled your pet cat.
FEMALE PATIENT AND PSYCHIATRIST AND MEETING.
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