In , The Doors Of The West Virginia Hospital For The Insane Opened In Weston, West Virginia Although Medical Records Have Not Been Accessed, Titles For The Poems In This Collection Reflect The Exact Reasons For Admission As Inscribed In The First Logbook Used At The Hospital From October To December , We are the publisher, so all of our authors get five stars from us Excerpts DESERTION BY HUSBAND W Va Hospital for the InsaneName Hattie WyattAdmitted 12 January, 1873My ring on the floor,spring rain plays a wedding waltzas the tin roof leaks.By lamplight shadow,his enframed tintype glowers.I shorten the wick.Six children, one room.Asleep, the youngest whimpers.Cursed the fruit of womb Alone, I hunt the brutewith the pistol he forgot.Only one bullet.Grave consequences.In the asylum, I sewquilts from widow s weeds.MEDICINE TO PREVENT CONCEPTION W Va Hospital for the InsaneName Danny MoserAdmitted 14 February, 1880Like poison ivy it grows, a contagionin the belly of my sweetheart,Polly, too young for motherhood,her Paw, too itchy on the trigger,too good a shot.For deliverance we prayto a God who prefers creation.We watch for a sign.Polly starts to show.To weed our Garden of EdenI beg a one eyed peddler,the self proclaimed savior of Shiloh.He offers the cure for a double eagle.I offer half and Daddy s war revolver.Sucking on a peppermint stick,he slides a bottle in my handcold as a creek trout, his smile,like a cur s, one whiskered lip raised,revealing the glint of a silver tooth.He whispers, Cures all Tells none Lonely as stars we lie awake.At sunrise, in an abandoned barn,the blue bottle swaddles in Polly s hands,the liquid, thick as whitewash.Like a baby rattle, her hands shake.We kiss She drinks.On straw, foul with ancient afterbirthwe wait Through weathered barn boardssunrays dribble like a leaky churn.A cock crows.Polly grabs her stomach,aching like a thousand catfights.She throws up, her eyes roll back,and she screams like her time come.Like a bride over the threshold,I carry Polly s bodyto her Paw s parlor, her facewhite as mother s milk,his tears, unanswered prayers,my mind broken, beyond repair,like a horse with a fractured leg.To prevent me from committingthe Judas sin in this asylum,they hog tie me in a straightjacket.For hours I rock like a baby.But I am a patient spider.From this web I have woven,I am determined to hang.
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- 106 pages
- Don Narkevic
- 10 December 2018 Don Narkevic