Five Poems from “Mental Hospital: A Memoir”

 
 In the morning my   vision  is
 diagonal.      Soupy     gloss
 hugging my eyes.   Smoke slips
 out my nose. I  stumble to the
 fishbowl.     “Something    is
 wrong.”    After  an undefined
 interval I wake to the squeeze
 of a blood  pressure  cuff. My
 tongue     is     made      of 
 phosphorus.

*

 There are  axes  along   which
 diagnoses are sorted.  Section
 out     dysfunction:     Major
 depressive,   PTSD,   chemical
 dependency,     no       major
 medical.  Axis I, II, III, IV.
 Until   I am the confluence of
 multiple illnesses. You define
 me  till  I   cannot    define
 myself.  Mental illness is put
 into me.