Exorcising My Wits

By: Llewellyn McKernan

I’m too shattered

to show you the pieces

being held together

by the glue of these words.

––––––––

My sorrow

is so great, it’s hiding

from the horror

of its own face.

––––––––

I’m too sick at

my stomach to talk

like Maalox.

Consider this page

blank but for

the vomit.

––––––––

I’m too empty

to overflow in the long

sounds of PROSE.  You’ll

––––––––

find me between

the rings of the telephone,

in the shape your mouth

makes when it cries

O, in the mark

on the page that

––––––––

turns like a doorknob

without a door, a

door without a room, a

––––––––

room that’s sky

full of clouds.

“Exorcising My Wits" was first published in The Awakenings Review.