What You Are Left With

Poets Respond

Fifteen Things I Learned from Inside a Psychiatric Ward

This Is Not a Protest

<div class="line">When the cold front hit, icing the breadbasket</div>
<div class="line">of America, the government banned all household</div>
<div class="line">pets. <em>Too much waste!</em> declared the President,</div>
<div class="line">who’d never walked a dog or stroked a cat.</div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">After the collection centers failed, the National Guard,</div>
<div class="line">with blue efficiency, swept through neighborhoods</div>
<div class="line">armed with dog treats and catnip, cages and flashlights,</div>
<div class="line">poking into closets, peering under porches.</div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">In the teeming cities, hordes of homeless invaded</div>
<div class="line">once overflowing shelters. Later, some were spotted</div>
<div class="line">wearing scarves reminiscent of tabby tails,</div>
<div class="line">hands snugged in fur-lined mittens.</div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">Care Bears&#x2122; replaced service animals.</div>
<div class="line">Stepping in for seeing-eye dogs</div>
<div class="line">became a popular form of community service.</div>
<div class="line">Exterminators were busy trapping mice.</div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">With no dogs to walk, people stayed indoors.</div>
<div class="line">I heard the little girl next door cry herself</div>
<div class="line">to sleep, her parents shouting in the kitchen.</div>
<div class="line">The little boy across the street gnawed his nails</div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">to the quick. His sister developed trichotillomania,</div>
<div class="line">harvesting her golden hair like wheat. At the pharmacy,</div>
<div class="line">a line around the block for Xanax, Zoloft, Celexa.</div>
<div class="line">Was it growing colder?</div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">At night, I prowl through our home, my ear</div>
<div class="line">tuned for the tinny jingle of our CoCo’s bell,</div>
<div class="line">expecting a gray swish of tail in the corner of my eye.</div>
<div class="line">I lift a bed-skirt in half-remembered anticipation.</div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">I try to knit but can’t stop my hands from trembling.</div>
<div class="line">I wake to a wet nuzzling near my elbow or a 2 a.m. meow,</div>
<div class="line">then realize it’s the contrail of a dream. We toss her litter box,</div>
<div class="line">her pooper scooper, her collar stitched with tiny hearts,</div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">but keep her <em>furminator </em>on the nightstand, make</div>
<div class="line">an altar of her favorite toys. Now, my husband and I</div>
<div class="line">take turns. Some days, he kneels and licks her bowl.</div>
<div class="line">Others, I curl at his feet and purr.</div><figure class="wp-block-audio"><audio controls src="https://admin.rattle.com/audio/BradenCold.mp3"></audio></figure>

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July 19, 2020This Is Not a ProtestElya Braden

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July 19, 2020This Is Not a ProtestElya Braden

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Cold Front by Elya Braden