Insanity

If insanity runs like water

then I hope my glass overflows.

The two-story brick building

never felt like home.

I draw back the curtains

for the sun to dry up the puddle that stirs my mind.

I open the windows

and the wind whispers secrets.

I don’t open the door.

I don’t go outside.

For fear that the sun will fade,

or the wind will get laryngitis.

What happens if I drown?

What if the glass begins to flood?

Who will save me?

Six feet never felt like much

for a woman shackled with anxiety.

But the two-story brick building

never felt like home.

And now six feet begins to ache,

like the miles I’ve walked

to pour the water down the drain.

Madilynne Fischer