I defocus my gaze: rest instead
upon the glowing window
of screen reflected in my glasses.
I breathe, lay my hands in prayer
on the keyboard, before typing
02:00 seclusion review, door-open,
patient in light holds – the same
time nights later, my eyes open
the memory, forcibly, and the moon
stares down through my window:
halogen box, faint intercom voice,
thick glass, through the heavy door
two nurses rush into the full room
of her, sit either side, like friends,
arms-in-arms, talk reassuringly
until she tries to stand – I only hurt
them because I was scared, she said.
All three look up at me. Briefly,
I am the inquisitor, no matter how soft
my voice (crouching down
risks mocking their restraint). Our
conversation runs like her eyes
flicking between hallucinations…
I like her, one of the nurses says after
my kind words fall, easily shattered
at the door closed against her fists
screaming, she's gorgeous, those big eyes
– I look back at myself in the moon.
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