Hospital

Mid-July Hospital Sun pungent, not cold; But the snow dwells at my feet, The heavy air squats above my lungs. Took awhile to shake off the ants, The ground attentive The time a prisoner needs to hibernate, Fear swallowing the pulse In my chest whole – Insensible I crossed many entrances, I walked through rooms filled with Scents of chloroform- Old tools, fetid sheets, rusty cabinets, I am here among the tormented bodies. Silence needles and twinges Me unceasingly Now my heart is a needle. The orange pumpkins have no eyes Pointed at balconies that Drink rusty tears from the sky. O how the balconies melt like echoes! O how the sun illuminates the present! O how to die or to smile! I opened a slit in my Spirit, There I put myself Then disappeared Written by © Fatima Nusairat