I woke this morning
with lemons on my tongue
and groans gurgling
in the pit of my brain.
How I wish I could remain
in sleep’s nightmare that
doesn’t require a pill
to keep me on the fringe
of normal.
My warden rests on its glass shelf
demanding I open the lid of my cage
and swallow the chain to hold
me to chemical sanity.
I argue the cinnamon elocution
of tempered mania robs me
of artistry, but the order of things
requires I swim with the tide.
Rebellion waits at Nyx-door
like the sheathed claws of a cat
waiting to shred perceptions
wild things can ever be tamed.
onyx, groan, lemon, sticks, elocution, shelves, cinnamon, Twix, risperidone,
Nyx-door, warden, plunge, esthesis
"like the sheathed claws of a cat
ReplyDeletewaiting to shred perceptions" really nice line
O but she could rebel. Amongst the pill, the warden, and the chain there isn't much chance, a faint hope and pleas for commissary sooth little.
ReplyDeleteAn excellent read for me.
..
“waiting to shred perceptions
ReplyDeletewild things can ever be tamed“
That gave me chills.
I love this line:
“I argue the cinnamon elocution”
~Also the title, pic, and “ain” rhymes (brain/remain/chain).
This poem is so insightful, Susie. You have juggled the pros and cons of medical intervention in psychological healing extremely sensitively.
ReplyDeleteI echo Kerry above... the fringe of normal - it is amazing what a few pills CAN do. (and I love your title)
ReplyDeleteTo be chained to that chemical warden make me think that you are left with two bad choices...
ReplyDeleteI'm with kitty.
ReplyDeleteThis is gorgeously rendered!❤️ Especially love; "like the sheathed claws of a cat waiting to shred perceptions."
ReplyDeleteI woke this morning, too, but it was snow, so stayed in bed.
ReplyDelete