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terry-collettPoems
See Yiska the snow is falling a tractor pushes its way through the snow on the field gulls and rooks follow in its wake the sky a dull grey the sun wiped out or nearly so hear Yiska the wind through the trees the birds calling hear the snowflakes silently falling hear our breath expressing as we speak or remain silent feel Yiska the snowflakes on our faces on our noses hold out your slim hand let the palms hold the snow feel my closeness sense me drawing near the nurses are talking they talk of their love lives of the *** they've had hear their words how they tease us their words of ********** and freedom and normality feel the emptiness bite us our nerves taut as wire as we walk see Yiska how they walk the nurses behind us and before us see how their heavy coats hold them their black boots marching like troopers hear the nattering of their lips and tongues sense my mental fatigue and yours and ours wait Yiska they will take us back to the hospital soon and lock us up once more in the white ward with the dull water coloured prints and photographs of yesteryears be near Yiska let our fingers touch let us feel too little or sense too much.
0
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 3:17 AM UTC
SENSE TOO MUCH.
See Yiska the snow is falling a tractor pushes its way through the snow on the field gulls and rooks follow in its wake the sky a dull grey the sun wiped out or nearly so hear Yiska the wind through the trees the birds calling hear the snowflakes silently falling hear our breath expressing as we speak or remain silent feel Yiska the snowflakes on our faces on our noses hold out your slim hand let the palms hold the snow feel my closeness sense me drawing near the nurses are talking they talk of their love lives of the *** they've had hear their words how they tease us their words of ********** and freedom and normality feel the emptiness bite us our nerves taut as wire as we walk see Yiska how they walk the nurses behind us and before us see how their heavy coats hold them their black boots marching like troopers hear the nattering of their lips and tongues sense my mental fatigue and yours and ours wait Yiska they will take us back to the hospital soon and lock us up once more in the white ward with the dull water coloured prints and photographs of yesteryears be near Yiska let our fingers touch let us feel too little or sense too much.
ON A WALK IN THE GROUNDS OF A MENTAL HOSPITAL WINTER 1971.
terry-collett
Written by
terry-collett
English
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 3:17 AM UTC
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