Back to days unsalted

Illness sucked me into a microcosm of life

Focused on breath, on death, on survival

Uninspired when the view goes long again

Thoughts of war trickle in

And I weep

Ah, the illness passes

I stand

Only to find a weakness lingers

A slide back into symptomatic

A slide back into sleep

Yet I am better than before

A poor cry amid the world’s turning

The rain-lace twists over the windshield

tat tat tats away

Age spins the same web

Creases ribbons of skin

My hand shakes slightly with its rhythm

Tat

Tat

Tat

Finished The Gorilla and The Bird

about a lawyer experiencing psychotic breaks brought on by bipolar disorder, and his supportive mother Bird:

I turn over the sticks and stones in my life

Searching for the creeping problems

To cage in a mason jar

And turn into art

Smells of ether and vomit and deaths

In the small room where I write

The whirring fan annoys me

I am a hot nerve today

My hands twist and shake

As the exposed wire crisps

Curtains frame a world washed gray

His heavenly blue eyes bounce

From me to the window

My husband broad-shouldered and kind

Purses his lips

But says nothing

He senses the pain in my creased brow

Smells dampness in my soul

Grins

As if to say

We’ve got this me and you

I play fetch with Basil

Our lab mix- white with orange spots

Her warm musty breath

Caught by my outstretched hand

I clutch her worn toy

Marinated in outside smells

Then throw it harder than I mean to

Knocking over an empty tea bottle

And laugh

For joy is flowing

My other dog

Our lab mix- black with white dusty muzzle

Curls into her bones on the couch

Huffs softly with her

Two tooth smile

Sun warms my cheek

Wind huffs through the open car windows

Curls leaves on the other side

Engines silent

We wait for our teenagers to crawl out of the building like ants

A cloud interrupts the sun’s gaze

Someone starts their engine