Ne me quitte pas

Knothole shapes shift in the paneling
As soon as she is alone again.
Dustmotes shimmer in the spiderwebs
That no one else sees.
She worries that the upstairs neighbor
Is intentionally dripping,
Incessantly dripping.
Her dislocated reason bends backward
Like the finger joint of a madman
Pointing the way.
She waits for the face
On the back of her head
To scream on cue
As she unravels,
A cardboard tube
Curling into galaxy arms
That wobble and spin
Like a pinwheel
In the wheeze
Of a feverish God-child.
She's so dizzy in this Milky Way
Cnidarian blur,
Stinging cells tangling
In her eyelashes,
A medusa tide
Pulsing in her veins.
Why does no one see the spiderwebs?

Reviews

[Eilis]

A compelling poem. It has a psychological horror edge but the horror is all in the mind. I recognize this place as a sufferer of mental illness all my life. I remember as a child watching the dust motes and catching the glimpses into other worlds. Sometimes when reality is too much, we disconnect.

I love your inventive imagery and the way the speaker acts as a sort of detached observer. The narration is very matter of fact. The poem does well to relay the horror of feeling alone in a very populous world. An aloneness that cannot be cured by proximity of others. An understanding that what one is or experiences cannot be shared. It’s haunting and wonderfully expressed. I love the cardboard tube image. Excellent work.

[Joli Dy]

Thank you for your encouragement and your candor. I'm humbled and grateful.