Before Group Meditation in the Psychiatric Ward, and: The Angel
- Before Group Meditation in the Psychiatric Ward, and: The Angel
Before Group Meditation in the Psychiatric Ward
I recall splendor.On a borrowed bicycle,I wobbled fast
downhill over jutting roots,a swarm of horseflieslike a grainy moon
following close behind.At the bottom of the hill,a little rain shining in
a corner of wind.Now the upbeat counselorpasses around a basket
of rocks. My friend Dan,the Vietnam vet, says,I knew I wasn’t going to be smart
so boy I was going to be tough.All his sentences are like that,clean as autumn. Each afternoon
we sit in a circle. I take a rock,I wish you were here,and I pass the basket on. [End Page 162]
The Angel
after Mark Strand
On the eve of my thirteenth birthday, I found her in an alley. Her wings were crossed at violent angles. She was naked and her bruises were so bright that I ran my finger along them to check if the skin was broken. I bathed and clothed her. The garment fell apart on her body, like silk floating down and severing itself on a sword. Since then, she has gone everywhere with me. Occasionally, people see her and startle. They ask her if she’s all right, but she speaks only to me, as if I were the translator of her ancient, mottled language. [End Page 163]
chloe honum is the author of The Tulip-Flame, which was a finalist for the 2015 PEN Literary Award in Poetry. Her poems have appeared in Orion, The Paris Review, and Pushcart Prize XL, among other anthologies and journals. She was raised in Auckland, New Zealand, and currently teaches at Baylor University.
