Saturday of no demands.

A day like every day

More of the same, less of the same.

Newspaper pages turning

As the Sun cast shadows through the French door pane.

All kindle for the coming burning

On a day beginning without demands.

We found ourselves in the morning leisure

Till a fearful stare

Trembling of hands

And the beginning of a seizure.

One hand held the arm at the elbow

And lifted the hand on fire.

Felt like a liar for I saw and smelled nothing.

Could not extinguish the flame

Nor soothe her words

Or her scream of pain

Expelled through the frothing.

Hallucinations came with our tea,

My flesh peeled from face to bone.

Because once the brain bleeds

The demon breaks into the home

During morning leisure

Or peaceful night,

Where love once cast at first sight

Now rapes my wife with seizure.

She will remember nothing of my valor.

Nothing of my voice

Lost among the noise.

Or of me fighting off the rapist

Or the slashing and cutting of my hyoid.

Just my hand that delivered the Ativan

To resume the day without demands.

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Categories: Life, Observations, Poetry

Tags: Day Without Demands, EL BROOKMAN, elbrookman, poetry, seizures