After Tea and Sandwiches
You watched her run
the bread
and butter knife
along
her inner arm
blunt blade
gesture only
enough to give
the nurses
something
to think about something
to make them
take the knife away
and sigh or curse
beneath breath
she walked about
the locked ward
in her light blue
nightgown
no shoes
or socks
or stockings
sometimes she’d search
through the men’s drawers
for razor blades
or something sharp
no doing
you said
I’ve looked already
she said
heard you tried
to string yourself up
in the john?
had those damn nurses
wetting themselves
and banging
on the locked door
and god
how they nigh
wet their panties
with it all
she said
almost managing
a small smile
bags
under her eyes
her pale skin
thin lips
sans lipstick
how do you think
it’ll go?
waiting
your next chance?
maybe
you said
she touched your hand
ran a finger
along the wrist
and scar
her gentle skin
setting fire
to tired flesh
then after tea
after the sandwiches
which Big Ted
brought up
from the canteen
watching
the sky
turn blue
to black
you knew
the dark was approaching
and the Black Dog back.
© Terry Collett
Terry Collett is 65 years old and has been writing since 1971. He had two slim books of poems published in the 1970s now out of print. He has had poems and stories published online and in magazines. He is married with 8 children and 8 grandchildren. He lives in Horsham, Sussex, in the UK.
since I am in this issue- I am leaving comments on every work- and I am not doing the usual amurikan britesided boosteristic no shades of grey stuff- liked the mental ward hell raiser atmosphere here- got no take away