LEFT AT THE ALTAR DAMAGE CASE

[dadio]

Christine
whom some fuck
had left at the altar
stood beside you

looking out the window
of the locked ward
of the psychiatric hospital
into the snowy grounds

why did he leave me
at the altar?
Why didn’t he just say
he didn’t want to marry me?

she asked
you turned to look at her
her hair long
and over her shoulders

covering the top part
of her flowered dressing gown
I don’t know
you said

wondering why the creep
had done that to her
leaving her in that state
she was in

he must have been a fool
not wanting to marry you
you said
she gazed at you

her blue eyes
reaching out
like invisible fingers
to touch you

I was the fool
she said
I should have known
snow was falling

on the windowsill
fresh and cold
and clean and white
she looked away from you

and watched the snow
someone said
you tried to hang yourself
she said softly

studying the snowflakes
on the trees
out in the grounds
so they say

you replied
I can’t remember
the radio behind
was playing

Hey Girl Don’t Bother Me
by a group
called the Tams
the dj said

you caused quite a fuss
the other day
locking yourself
in the john

and putting the belt
of your dressing gown
over the water pipe
Christine said

they thought
you were going to do it again
I guess so
you replied

she moved her left hand
to touch yours
we’re like broken dolls
she said

far off in a field
a tractor pulled a plough
through the snow
and gulls flew down

and up behind it
as it went by
her hand sent sparks
through your nerves

when it touched yours
broken dolls
you said
or puppets

with strings cut through
and tears filled her eyes
and she whispered
what is one to do?

[stilltrucking]

a good question

a crackling good poem
good choice on the monet
brings the electricity to light.

[theirishsea]

Masterful. I love reading your poems.

[still.trucking]

"What's a person to do?"
I can answer that question now.

Read poetry like this!

that poem was genius dadio,

(bell jar, ECT, white light, a mad boys love song)
please forgive my idiosyncratic replies. Something about the Monet "tripped" me, like a flash back put me right into the poem.

[dadio]

This poem is so personal that it wrenches to write. Thank you, still-trucking& theirishsea.

[still.trucking]

Freud complained that where ever his thoughts led him a poet had been there first.

I hope it is read by everyone who asks that question. There is healing in it.

[dadio]

What is not mentioned in this poem is the ECT that was applied. Brain fucking for sure.

[still.trucking]

I admired how well the poem was written, you wrapped it up so tightly, i am sorry if i tagged the poem. I have read that certain drugs mimic what is termed psychotic by clinicians. I got a lot of mimicry behind my first reply, For a moment when I looked at the Monet it all came back to me in an instant, flashback. I am sorry if I tagged your poem. Metaphors come crude to me
but some times I think of a golf ball that center bit when you cut one in half all those billions or hundreds of little rubber bands so densely packed words of the poet that un_ ravel in a readers mind.

that spark between their hands just killed me .

I have a naive eye for poetry but even I can admire a poem so well crafted.

thank you for writing and sharing

[dadio]

Thank you, still-trucking.