the other one

This piece is taken from an unpublished collection drawing on my experiences working in the field of psychiatry, tentatively entitled ‘The New Asylum’, currently being developed into book format in collaboration with my wife Leanne Murphy.

I’m sorry I yelled at you before paul
but it wasn’t me
it was the third one
inside my belly

it was the other one paul
it wasn’t me

she always calls me paul
gets easily confused
among the various male nurses

moments ago
she was screaming at me
a berating sprinkled with suitable dire threats
and heartfelt curses
because I’d refused to make a third cup of coffee

a tempest
whipped up and blown out
in a few banshee breaths
then the regrets

I’m sorry paul
you know it was that other one
in the middle

she points a finger to her abdomen

I’m only six years old paul
I shouldn’t have to take
all these tablets

she tucks back an unruly mass
of stringy grey-streaked hair
fixes her gaze
somewhere beyond my left shoulder
and wanders outside
in search of another cigarette

© Frank Prem, 2012

3 thoughts on “the other one

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