Cassie Bosley: A Poem for my Sister

Fall '08 TOC

That rainy day I looked at
photos of her, younger,
before the scars.
Her guardian angel went
out for a smoke at all
those takes, but we knew
it was nearby.
How else did she make it
through all those hard times?

There’s a thing in her eye,
the tilt of her head and
sometimes lines on her brow
that let us know
not all was right.
The holes in the wall, the stitches,
the bruises, the guilt and the
blame: “the world’s too small,
no wonder I can’t cope.”
Going to the fifth floor
I’m searched before I start up.
Nothing sharp, no drugs. We
have to be careful – failed suicides
may try again.

Who is that woman
looking out the window?
She turns and I see the wrapped wrist.
Where is her angel?
Took care of business and
went for a smoke.

Depression meets the grey sky
and slides around the ward
like a specter, attaching
itself like a sponge to the reef.
At least she’s alive, and I help
her to leave.
She smiles at the nurses,
a tear in her eye
and I see her angel in
the slant of the sun.

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Not Enough Night
Not Enough Night
© 2012 Naropa University