MOON'S COOL GLOW 1971

PATIENTS IN A PYCHAITRIC WARD IN 1971

Beyond that window
there's that world,
Yiska said,
she pointed
at the landscape,
snow was falling,
covering the tree tops
and the field,
where a tractor moved,
and gulls flew
down behind
as it moved on.

This world
is our world,
I said,
looking behind us
at the locked ward,
and patients sitting
or walking.

Yiska stood there
in her off pink
nightdress,
arms folded
across her breast,
a cigarette
between lips.

I stood next to her,
my nightgown
hanging loose.

This world
is our world,
she said.

I thought of the night
we had hidden
in the ETC room
on a narrow bed,
but the night nurse came
and found her
(I had hidden
from sight)
and moved her
back to her dormitory.

I returned
to the lounge
and sat staring
into the night sky
from the window,
taking in the stars
and the moon's
cool glow.