A blanket wraps tight around my legs,

I shuffle my feet to feel them

I think she is coming today, I think she is coming

I am nervous and afraid

because I am here and she is not

I am here gliding across linoleum,

pushing off on my wheels with all my might

the halogens hurt my eyes

she was once so young, a spring,

my wildflower, my wild girl

“Agnes, Agnes darling come here”

I think I hear her little voice “mama”

I look around, I smell medicine

then honeysuckle…milkweed–

I clip the paisley sheets to the line,

she dances between them, her shadow spinning

“When you get old will you die mama?”

“Oh that’s a long time from now, honey”

is that her skirt flashing into that room,

her little bony legs and dirty knees

I push my way there, I see the nurse

“Is she here?  Is she here?”

“Lily you know you don’t belong here”

I’m pushed out, a cart of glasses kettles by

I think she is coming today, I think she is coming

I’m fed all these pills with piss-warm water

by the time evening pushes at our windows

I am tired, I am alone

hands fumble me into my nightgown



she is coming

8 thoughts on “Lilian

  1. A sad refrain of abandonment — institutionalized and forgotten. Is this someone you knew? Doesn’t matter … Lillian is in a thousand nursing homes and mental institutions, waiting for us to come. When I was kid, I loved to make monster models, and the one that spooked me most was The Abandoned Prisoner — a skeleton chained to the wall of a crumbled castle. He was me, somehow, or my worst fear. – Brendan


    1. I’m back. I was pretty much sick the last 2 months and found out why and got my meds squared away and all is ok. Thanks for asking 🙂 I have a new post up about whats going on with me on the emotional end. My first emotional blog with no reservations. Maybe i’ll keep it. Can’t wait to go read your posts! I’ve missed ya!



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