Never to the Ball
undressing herself continually & dirty in her habits*
Bruises buttoned down
to my naval. My bust goose-
pimple decorations, arms
embroidered with a tattoo-sleeve.
Nurses throw blankets
over me, protect
my immodesty, brand
me dirty on my flesh.
They finish the day-shift
disappear in the evening’s haze
through barred windows,
for a few pints in the local.
I’m locked in my room
fire-cinder skin and ash
bodice; a hard bed, table,
and seat for companions.
No white mice horses
no pumpkin coaches
no lizard coachmen.
At night
I’m bolted shut.
Claire Smith writes poetry exploring other worlds. Her poems have appeared in: Illumen, Spectral Realms and Strange Horizons. She is working on a PhD at the University of Gloucestershire. She lives with her husband and their spoilt Tonkinese cat, Ishtar.
Note: *Gloucestershire Archives (GA), Item reference unknown, The Mental State of Je— Sp— in Notice of Admission, written by J. Hurst Craddock, Medical Officer of City and County of Gloucester Pauper Lunatic Asylum, Wotton near Gloucester, on 22nd May 1885.