Snapped
Like the ulna cracked by a boy from a tree
or a wishbone pulled between two thumbs
I snapped my mind at half past three
The frantic flowers of the Persian rugs
spliced my brain with their greens and blues
like a wishbone pulled between two thumbs
My face gave away not the faintest clues
and nobody knew those buds entwined
had spliced my brain. With greens and blues
of mountain trails I’d mend my mind
as shrinks and pills had nil effect
and nobody knew of the buds entwined
For four dark years every box was checked
but my wits still flapped at my tether’s end
for shrinks and pills had nil effect
Lightning fast but loathe to mend
like the ulna cracked by a boy from a tree
my wits ripped off at my tether’s end
I snapped my mind at half past three.
Audrey Molloy was born in Ireland and spent her formative years in rural Wexford. Itchy feet led her to Sydney, where she works as a medical writer and editor. Her work has recently appeared in Australian Poetry Journal, The Galway Review, and is upcoming in Orbis. She was short-listed for the Over The Edge New Writer of the Year 2016. www.audreymolloy.com.