Photography of Lisa Gordon
No Place To Lay Head (Asylum) (From A “Firm’s” Perspective)
Sometimes I did
get my danders up–
so many bristled heads
pushing me
into the bedsteads–
Not even a bit
of sacking, potato-faced,
lumped by the press
of Adam’s apple,
too soon split
at the seams–who knew
your own feathers
could poke
so sharp–
even straitened stripes
bunching punch drunk
in the clenches–
Flakes filled
my folds–
eye, sob,
paint, dinner–
Pillow, pill-ow,
pill-low,
I whispered
into their ears,
sure speaking down to them
could help, sure some–the poor, women–knew the language
of down.
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This is very much of a draft poem, posted for Margaret Bednar’s prompt on With Real Toads, which asked us to write a prompt based upon Lisa Gordon’s moving photographs of Willard Asylum and to write in the first person from some perspective. This is written from the perspective of a pillow. I do not mean it to be funny at all; I find this a terribly painful subject.
On the good side, this is the 25th day of National Poetry Month. At this point, it gets hard to tell if anything one writes has meaning! In this regard, I had many different endings and have edited since posting, adding the last several words. Still very uncertain of ending.
ManicDDaily 
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