A social worker woke me up, or rather,
I was yanked out of an unlit tunnel and
deposited on the other side, surrounded
by blinking, beeping numbers telling stories
that my body had been hiding under flaps
and folds for months, and then the social
worker woman began to talk. Nurses
flitted by in pastel scrubs and smiled at me
the way people smile at the nice homeless
man on the corner who always says hello.
A menu was provided, I took hold
of it with willing hands but a loud protesting
mouth. Do I have to stay the night?
The macaroni and cheese was creamy,
cold, and as I was throwing it up I noticed
the burn of the stomach acid in my throat
was almost soothed by the melted cheese
it passengered into the plastic bag provided.
I noticed the fluorescent lights appeared
brighter as the windows blued to night
and my senses began to recollect themselves
in a new edged wash of sharp awareness.
Author Bio:
Gena LeBlanc is a senior and student of literature and religious history at Bennington College where she is working on her senior thesis, a collection of short stories and biblical exegeses about the Judeo-Christian Devil. She first began reading poetry in high school, appreciating it for its archaic beauty and melancholic mood. Since high school, however, she has had the opportunity to study poetry more broadly and is continually astounded by all that it can do. It is an art form she hopes will never die out. Gena has been published in Microfiction Monday Magazine and ElectricCereal.
I was yanked out of an unlit tunnel and
deposited on the other side, surrounded
by blinking, beeping numbers telling stories
that my body had been hiding under flaps
and folds for months, and then the social
worker woman began to talk. Nurses
flitted by in pastel scrubs and smiled at me
the way people smile at the nice homeless
man on the corner who always says hello.
A menu was provided, I took hold
of it with willing hands but a loud protesting
mouth. Do I have to stay the night?
The macaroni and cheese was creamy,
cold, and as I was throwing it up I noticed
the burn of the stomach acid in my throat
was almost soothed by the melted cheese
it passengered into the plastic bag provided.
I noticed the fluorescent lights appeared
brighter as the windows blued to night
and my senses began to recollect themselves
in a new edged wash of sharp awareness.
Author Bio:
Gena LeBlanc is a senior and student of literature and religious history at Bennington College where she is working on her senior thesis, a collection of short stories and biblical exegeses about the Judeo-Christian Devil. She first began reading poetry in high school, appreciating it for its archaic beauty and melancholic mood. Since high school, however, she has had the opportunity to study poetry more broadly and is continually astounded by all that it can do. It is an art form she hopes will never die out. Gena has been published in Microfiction Monday Magazine and ElectricCereal.
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