Wonderland Poem by fiona sinclair

Wonderland



Wonderland.

Illuminated photographs of lilies
invite us to drown our sorrows.
Economy of space means comfy seats
are placed uncomfortably close.
Beside me is a woman whose bulk
is not loss of control but a massing of strength.
She is painted in colours that nature
warns are dangerous;
aggravated by a comedy hat.
In her urgency to organise her weekly medication,
she overwhelms a small table,
loudly tabulating her days.
On my right is a man dressed
elegantly to disguise his status,
who betrays himself with a
monologue into a mobile.
Suddenly, he demands more than
silent agreement from his listener.
Instinctively half turning his body
in a cue for privacy, he extorts loyalty
with the clichéd line ‘I can't do this on my own',
that seems inadequate to his demand,
but he charges it with a tone of ferocious despair,
that carries a threat to them both.
This is a waiting room for patients whose
afflictions have turned them inside out.
Despite the walls attempts at tranquillity
our symptoms like unruly pets will not be house trained.

Monday, November 24, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: mental illness
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
A visit to a mental hospital
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
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