Schizophrenia -V. 2

I read an article in the New Yorker about the discovery of the genetic mechanisms behind schizophrenia.  That’s what this poem is a reponse to.  Feels good to work on some poems again however hard it feels to write.


Desiring only square-ness
we raise long shears
in the garden, where
to neaten
is to destroy.

It’s april and
the late frost had cleaned
our yard of the less hardy varieties
like a stiff breeze takes
loose leaves.

You say in your ear
the white mites are
going, small mouths working
smaller teeth…

I tell you
they found the gene for madness.
I tell you I saw my father’s hands
make deep cuts
in our beloved magnolia tree,
and later how he stood, pale
among the wind-scattered buds
like over a grave.

I do miss the flowers, but
I can’t fault you for hollowing yourself
any more than I can ask you
to reconsider
your brown eyes.



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