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Lethe (to Kristine)
by Aaron BlairHer doctor plays Zeus,
trying to fix her mind.
They put the electrodes on
and then the power shoots through her,
those tiny thunder bolts.
She closes her eyes, escaping
to a dream of drinking from the Lethe,
a night odyssey that promises
each new day will be
a blank slate, a dark pool,
in which she falls, sinking.
She wraps herself in them,
those black waters. They absorb,
all the color, all the light,
until she is invisible,
a hidden storm not causing
even a ripple on the surface.
She wakes up, in a room
as white as a million unbroken
rainbows, slowly blinking away
the blindness, the lingering night.
Alone and still broken, her reality
crowds back in. The river has gone. 11/22/2003 Author's Note: I wanted to write you the way I know you. Sorry if it's inaccurate at all.
Posted on 11/22/2003
Copyright © 2024 Aaron Blair
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kristine Briese on 11/23/03 at 03:07 AM Ye gods. |
| Posted by Agnes Eva on 11/23/03 at 08:24 AM chilling metaphors of mental therapy, so many lines that strike to the core |
| Posted by Rachelle Howe on 12/11/03 at 10:04 PM wow. how vivid. |
| Posted by Mo Couts on 06/24/11 at 11:23 PM This is beautiful. And even if it were inaccurate, I think for the beauty of it, she'd forgive you! |
| Posted by Meghan Helmich on 09/22/11 at 05:04 PM I'd be honored if you wrote a poem about me. You have such a way with words! |
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