Andrew Penwarden
Love In A Psychiatric Unit
She and the man from Guyana
With her flame red hair, his volcano beard
Were just friends having fun
In the wilderness of broken forms.
The ward sister insulated the husband
By the erection of locks/walls by night.
Ghosts within their minds held parties.
They kissed in the whitewashed corridors, wan shapes
Warming their shoulders in a cold vale.
Not church bells, prison bells,
But the principle burnt in their bosoms.
She said she had slept with Christ
But this was better -
Her husband was a cigarette,
This man an Icelandic geyser.
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- Tabla Book of New Verse, The
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