There is a study and sunroom
at the center of the busy roundabout in my mind
where I am struggling to concentrate

There is an itch on my scalp that I can’t scratch
because I clenched my hands
into fistfuls of our last time together

This was long ago
each hand is aglow now
and showing which way to go

I am out walking for hours in your direction
even when the downpour is freezing
because my fingers never grow cold

One day you heard she knew magic
Then you heard she was 300 years old
Then you saw her barking back at stray dogs
and hurling toenail clippings at motorcyclists
from the sidewalk.

After six weeks
she threw up her veiny hands
and set them on my iroko desk

She glanced around a moment

This isn’t funny anymore
I still see everything
Full head full head
Red hair red hair

My eyes were dry and starting to burn
from the sounds she was making

Blood art! Red bed! December finger!

She was screaming now

Blood red! Ripped red!
I still see everything!
You see? You see?
What haven’t I seen?

She might have said more
I might have convulsed briefly

But I remember her eyes were blank
cloudier than usual
An ancient kind of blank
I remember wondering which of us it was
that needed help

She pulled away from my desk
and gestured for me to try again
I blinked the heat away from my eyes
and held a finger to my notes

Two words out of several hundred
started glowing like embers

A sound between a yelp and a squawk
escaped the therapist
when I exhaled the words red ram

The sound made my parents
come flying through the door
She could have charged an extra half million
and they would not have cared.