North American Dreaming: The Room With No Corners
My room with no corners,
My lovely white jacket,
Buttoned and strapped in the back.
William Burkholder's poem describes a living nightmare.
For more of Bill's significant poems please click on North American Dreaming in the menu on this page.
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Claustrophobic!
The straps!
Too tight!
Screaming Woman,
In the hallway,
Complaining of voices and animal bites!
There's nowhere to hide.
They have stolen my corners!
This white cylinder is closing in!
Gasping and cowering as the orderly comes in,
Hypodermic ready; with my daily dose of lethargy.
Chrome plated needle pinch, pricks, and slides,
Searching out insanity's target.
Rising and falling respirations
falling, to that of a normal Man.
In stark white padded contrast,
I drift on dreams of Thorazine.
Induced to key wound machine,
Shuffling to the beat of the drummer's
Needle, drooling and drooping eyes,
My room with no corners,
My lovely white jacket,
Buttoned and strapped in the back.
