Tag: Robin Sinclair

The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Letters to my lover from behind asylum walls by Robin Sinclair

September 19, 2003

The Crows.

Dearest, Loving Eleanor,
Do you recall our first night in the field,
stumbling over roots
and each other
the cloak of familiarity yet to be?
It’s Autumn and I can think of nothing else,
the season exhaling through branches,
making leaves quiver and chatter like old friends.
the sound of subtle escape
easing from your throat like old jazz.
That same voice I hear confessing,
a curve grazed with teeth and tongue,
a smile running its length,
The lost island behind your ear
where secrets would land in years to come and
the devil’s den between chin and breast.
Keep our soil under your nails and

listen for the crows.
They’re watching.
They’re coming.
Sweet Jane

The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Letters to my lover from behind asylum walls by Robin Sinclair

September 12, 2003

Barcode Girl is Dead.

I can only imagine your agony – envisioning
the filth of another in and on my flesh.
I can feel through the sky
and walls and into my breast
how your pain turned to rage.
But did it turn to revenge?
Barcode Girl stood up at breakfast – without a word
and started to run.
She ran through the large glass doors that remain
unlocked
for those of us in Group, and ran down the hall.
I followed her through the door – I watched her
until she turned the corner toward the stairwell.
She lowered her head and
dove from the top step with purpose and
On the landing of the staircase that separates us
from the world – her skull
hit with the sound of a stack of books
in an empty library.
She crumpled in on herself.

I could see in my mind – the faded green lines and
numbers under her hair, wrinkling like a soiled bed
sheet tossed away.
She fractured her own skull and broke her neck, and
the intern that rolled her onto her back apparently
made matters worse.
She died 17 minutes later – surrounded by
people who didn’t know her favorite song
or if she liked to dance when she was alone
or if she believed in god.
I would never assume you’d be so wicked –
truthfully, perhaps presumptuously,
I assume that you’ve already forgiven me,
because that’s the nature of your love, our love,
but I couldn’t feel better unless I told you –
an image
of you, furiously sobbing
and reciting incantations,
had crossed my mind.
But I know you, my love – I know you
better than that, and now,
more than ever, I know
that I must find the answers.
Yours,
Sweet Jane.

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 Sinclair is a queer, genderqueer writer of mixed heritage and mixed emotions, currently on the road, reading from their debut book of poetry, Letters To My Lover From Behind Asylum Walls (Cosmographia Books 2018).

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.

 
As a writer, Nilsa explores gender and diversity issues (including child neglect, domestic violence, homelessness, and sexual abuse). Her work has appeared in the Huffington Post, The Selkie, and several other literary journals. It’s also been featured at Miami Book Fair’s LipService True Stories out Loud Miami, the Writing Class Radio podcast, and at the “Muses and Music” a multidisciplinary event of the Cream Literary Alliance. Nilsa is also the Editor of The Wardrobe and Doubleback Review. Nilsa can be found reading or at the beach.

The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Letters to my lover from behind asylum walls by Robin Sinclair

August 12, 2003

The Need.

My Eleanor,
That Barcode Girl wept today in Group, forced
to tell a story that made her feel alone.
She refused, said she knew what it would do to her,
said she knew the memories in the air would
break her,
but they raped her.
They didn’t pin her down, a forearm across her chin,
pushing harder as she quietly cried;
they simply shaped her thoughts with words until she
laid on her back
and found herself somewhere else.
When it was over, she lost her breath,
started drifting,
wobbly-drunk from failed escape and
the wave of an almost forgotten feeling.
They carried her away,
sobbing as she screamed, “I need her.”
A girl named Kim once whispered to me through a
telephone
that she needed me.
It turned my chest to tar,

like that feeling you get walking into a courtroom
or climbing the stairs to your apartment, knowing
there will be an eviction notice on your door.
I didn’t need Kim. I didn’t need anyone –
I had always felt complete on my own until I met
you.
I don’t remember what my response to Kim was,
but it was more than likely a lie.
Someone who is whole never needs to be untruthful.
Today I woke up feeling what I’ve known I feel,
but haven’t felt in some time.
I was terrified. I missed you.
I was hopeful,
and fought to hang onto the edge of a dream, but
could only recall an empty country road
I did not recognize. Dusty dirt met the pavement
just below the guardrail.
Beyond that, I’ve lost the image.
I hope to see you soon.
Sweet Jane

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 Sinclair is a queer, genderqueer writer of mixed heritage and mixed emotions, currently on the road, reading from their debut book of poetry, Letters To My Lover From Behind Asylum Walls (Cosmographia Books 2018).

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.

 
As a writer, Nilsa explores gender and diversity issues (including child neglect, domestic violence, homelessness, and sexual abuse). Her work has appeared in the Huffington Post, The Selkie, and several other literary journals. It’s also been featured at Miami Book Fair’s LipService True Stories out Loud Miami, the Writing Class Radio podcast, and at the “Muses and Music” a multidisciplinary event of the Cream Literary Alliance. Nilsa is also the Editor of The Wardrobe and Doubleback Review. Nilsa can be found reading or at the beach.

The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Letters to my lover from behind asylum walls by Robin Sinclair

April 5, 2003

Waiting.

My Eleanor,
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.
Breathed.
Stared at the wall as if he could see me through it.
Never blinking. Never moving. Never speaking.
Waiting.
I could see him through the veil as clearly as he
could see me.
Call someone, Eleanor.
Get me out of here.
Sweet Jane

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 Sinclair is a queer, genderqueer writer of mixed heritage and mixed emotions, currently on the road, reading from their debut book of poetry, Letters To My Lover From Behind Asylum Walls (Cosmographia Books 2018).

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.
 
As a writer, Nilsa explores gender and diversity issues (including child neglect, domestic violence, homelessness, and sexual abuse). Her work has appeared in the Huffington Post, The Selkie, and several other literary journals. It’s also been featured at Miami Book Fair’s LipService True Stories out Loud Miami, the Writing Class Radio podcast, and at the “Muses and Music” a multidisciplinary event of the Cream Literary Alliance. Nilsa is also the Editor of The Wardrobe and Doubleback Review. Nilsa can be found reading or at the beach.