April 5, 2003
He was in the halls again last night.
I know it was him.
Like a mother hearing her daughter’s cries in a
sea of a thousand voices,
I know his footsteps as if my own,
He stopped outside my door but didn’t enter.
He just waited.
Stared at the wall as if he could see me through it.
Never blinking. Never moving. Never speaking.
I could see him through the veil as clearly as he
could see me.
Call someone, Eleanor.
Get me out of here.
This selection comes from the poetry collection, Letters To My Lover From Behind Asylum Walls, available from Cosmographia Books. Purchase your copy here! Our curator for this selection is Nilsa Rivera.
Robin’s work has been published in various magazines and journals, including Across the Margin, Shot Glass Journal, Red Bird Chapbooks, The Cerurove, Yes Poetry, and Pidgeonholes.
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