Three Letters from a Schizophrenic to Her Husband, 1909 after Emma Hauck, Wiesloch Asylum, Germany I The first begins with a drizzle, words on top of words, the same words working their way down, bumping, veering off the left bank of a manila landscape, a creek dammed into a pool of smeared graphite-- then begin again on a chink of clear paper, as if her writing needed air before pouring down hard, three thunderous columns of help come streaked with hold me. The page can’t hold her squall, its bottom corner gives way, everything floods. II A jumble of cursive heaped in trees, a deep German forest where light shines through needles: Come Sweetheart Come The words stampede: Hurry, not much time, the light is leaving. The brambles are taking over, lurching across my window. Not much space left. Not much. Just one small bit open, sweetheart. It’s the moon, ballooning itself over the asylum’s walls. III One word, come, greys the paper to fog. She feels blindly for an edge with the blunt stub, sinks into a mire with a quick sucking in, He won’t come he won’t come he won’t come Kate Peper Besides writing, Kate Peper loves to paint watercolours, garden obsessively and walk with her husband and semi-feral dog, Hannah, in Northern California. Her chapbook, Dipped In Black Water, won the New Women's Voices Award from Finishing Line Press, 2016 and can be purchased here: www.peperpoetry.com Her poems can be found in The American Journal of Poetry, The Baltimore Review, Cimarron Review, Potomac Review, Rattle, Tar River Review and others. If you’d like to see some of her award-winning art, please visit: www.peperprojects.com
1 Comment
David Belcher
12/6/2020 06:03:00 am
This poem is ultimately about suffering, and desperation, but I am left feeling elated, the poem's imagery captures the emotion and the energy in the letters.
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