Mrs Jenkins, Blue Zone, Ward E.

She shakes her hand, no
Visitors to lift her spoon
To wet her wise mouth.

Patience, patient.

If myself were distilled into

A test tube and held up to the

Light now, it would be two feet,

A bit of br ain between the ey es

And the ache where the lungs meat.


The rest is being kept

In another cabinet,

Access has been barred

And bureaucracy is quick

To thicken the dust on this key


There is the hope of everything

Being in that jar, housing

The organs I once owned.

The promise of wholeness, of

Complete myself, stowed away.


I’ll pay whatever it takes, I’ll

Take whatever works and spit out

Whatever doesn’t and if nothing does

I’ll smash the glass and let my guts

Mingle with the mud, set free forever.

15th of August is my new birthday

Today Bart’s hospital

Opened its doors

To my head at 7:30 am

To usher in a new

Gamma Life for me.

My scorched brain

Lives again, disarmed

Nose breathes

Teeth sing

Tongue taps

Its roof with pink.

Tonight my soul will

Shake its head till

Every hair winks

Wildly at the moon.

Thank you dear universe.