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