Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

Asylum

I want to come home
somewhere
to a man with one ear
painting flowers and rivers
in the kitchen.
I rise,
hopeful,
but hope turns to despair
when the gulls come begging.
How does anyone live in this world?
I think of the asylum
and the overcoat in the corner
and I wish I could run there.
I think of the phones that I should like to unplug,
the ones that ring over and over
and the ones that never ring at all.
I think of the bottles and drawers
and stiff fingers
and the voices that never stop.
And I think of the asylum.