watches as you fold and unfold the towel after your bath, she ignores what you say, her eyes watch every move you make.
Where the place? you say, patting
the towel with the palms of your hands, picking off a speck of white. Maggie, that's enough, the nurse says, losing patience, sighing beneath her breath.
She walks beside you down
the dark passageway, never in front(she's been told never to turn her back on you.) Your hair is cropped, your eyes stare ahead, you mutter: where the place?
Upon the heath, you answer
yourself, there to meet...Hush Maggie, the nurse says, eyeing you warily, having read the report on you, how you stabbed your boyfriend's friend with a pair of scissors, jab, jab, jab. There to meet, whom will I meet? You say, looking the nurse's way, taking in her pink plumpness, the softness of her flesh, her wariness of stare. You both enter the main room. It is large and other criminally insane patients sit about or stand. Sit down now, Maggie, the nurse says. You sit in a chair by the wall. She walks off, her plump behind sways as she walks away.
Jamie stands by the window; he
stares out. He still has the slit throat you gave him as he slept in bed beside you. He is silent. Moody fart, you muse, wishing he'd go away, and take his slit throat with him. Where the place? You ask. He turns and looks at you, but says nothing. You look ahead at the passing crowd, the tall nurse walks another patient by his thin arm. WHERE THE PLACE? You shout. Bells rings, nurses look and rush towards you in sharp alarm.