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
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