Abilify

you hear a rhythmic jingling—
close your eyes:
the nurse’s keys
bouncing down the hall

the linoleum floor
prevents you from falling
all the way down to the dirt
the corners of the room are softened by time
and blackened by mould

the tips of plastic tines
are at your fingertips
texture is only interesting and nothing else
(not intriguing, not surprising)

where are you, where
are me? Army of holy spirits
Sacred Guardian
of the loony Eden tree, it’s the pear trunk
on the edge of campus
you’ll run and glide despite the hands around your wrists
and you’ll never get there

you could write a saga on just the image of your boyfriend’s
bracelets that turn his wrists to gold
you do write a saga of hope through the form-filling, the question-answering
you chronicle your story on the white walls
in purple crayon
no washcloth is brave enough to wipe it all down
no time is sufficient for everything on your to-do list; its four dimensions

you’ll blur awake, your grip on the crayon will loosen, the linoleum will catch it
you’ll morph into a small child as you shyly ask
a small towel, please?

close your eyes
what’s that on your head?
a heavy ring around your skull
that turns your crown to gold,
protects the labyrinthine ridges of the coral reef

the nurse will always be back, clip and jingle,
you’ll baptize her many times over.
Jen, mother, Sasha, mommy, where is she, come around, give me
yours, the yoga will take me,
filthy mat, matted and all,
me again, we’ll get there
get back
any way we can

purple stained washcloth on the floor
you kneel
scattered but repentant