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

Misery invited

I attended her day and night

Until my mother reminded through phone call

Of all I’ve accomplished looking back

She told me to be uncertain is a good sign because it means you are seriously considering life’s next big step and that it includes scarier hills and mountains and dangers and promises

So I think the trick is to look forward to good things and back to good things too

And count the little elephants you’ve conquered or whatever other animal invades your room

And never, ever, ever give up when giving up is what you want to do. Unless you should. Because face it, some of us are weird

I haven’t showered in a week or more

Scared of being interrupted in the shower by the interrupter man

Who pulls back the curtain to check on me

If I still breathe

Then apologizes in kind tones

Only to do it again

A second second second later.

In the tub you can see him coming

And this is better

Because I don’t jump

And there are lots and lots of bubbles

To hide tender parts

he wouldn’t dare get his sleeves wet

And have to explain to his wife how they got that way

There’s a rhythm to madness

You just have to find the beat