maniacally tap-tap her manicured nails
across formica wasteland
sequential tip-touch drone
i observe with reluctant objectivity
her fever pitching
eye socket restraining civility
it roars
the bright white chatter
her click click click unraveling
a distorted blink; "Save me"
can’t save you
safe...I'll keep you...
my hand trespasses
swimming through the buzz
gripping her knuckles
massaging the welted kinks of depravity
relentless tears
laying flat irrepressible coils of Larina
"Why does the crow rest at the top of a tree?"
I’m not sure.
...to look for food?
so it comes
a pause
unconscious calm
a silence
momentary respite
an insipid quiet
barely long enough
to ask for forgiveness
until she smiles: "Crows perch on top
and chaw at our shadows."
my hand tightens
her lip trembles
explanations snapping
quavering filaments of matter and deed
Copywrite jeanne rené watson
Note: Occasionally I worked with teens with the onset of schizophrenia. I did not use the actual name in this poem.
This is certainly a poem worthy of much more than a single reading. The title captures attention because it is thought-provoking. Thank you for sharing, Jeanne René. Love, peace, and best wishes to you,
From my little experience with schizophrenia, people who have it seem to have very high intellect. The discussion of the crows is a very good example of how people like that seem to know things that most of us don't pay any attention to, like a crow sitting high in a tree, not necessarily trying to call attention except to other crows. I would expect that most of those solitary crows are lookouts, both for food and danger.
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and chaw at our shadows."
This fantastic two lines gave me pause to sit back and marvel. I like/no, I love your style, Jeanne . . .
budd
Regis.
Ron