And Involves the Same Pyschotropic Drugs
by Francine DuBois

she will turn into an
anti-social Emily Dickinson
(yes, i know it's hard to imagine)
upon the death of her mother,
and be left with no packets of poems
to produce, and no one to find them

in time, her white skin, shielded from
light stealing in through closed curtains,
will disappear into the interior walls,
the walls she never dared to paint.
one flatness easing into another,
she will creak and moan with the house,
unable to feel the joy Emily could see
outside the attic window
where life exists

Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's Version -- Inspiration
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