This poem is part of my collection based on psychological disorders. It is based on the story of January Schofield, a young girl born with severe schizophrenia. You can learn more about Jani at this LA Times article. This poem was also part of the collection of my poetry that won second place in the 2010 Ina Coolbrith Memorial Poetry Prize.
Poems Found in January
I.
Jan. 7, 2009:
Patient is psychotic; talking to rats, naming them the days of the week…
Sunday
there is a new hung skin,
having thickened on the fence overday.
the brimming night rat
bites out
the lolloping dance.
Monday
punch drunk. this rat
seizes
and restrains.
Tuesday
everything is bright and huge
the howling yellow expands so far
all rats streaming for the open edges
Wednesday
the chokehold day.
Thursday
Grip-Tight and
Bite-Hard snarl. ankle spitkickingchoke
clasping, pinch pricking griptight and
bitehard cuddle,
whiskers
Friday
boatride home,
faint and floating
rats curled on the soft woman’s shoulders
Saturday
bileblack chalkboard and a small
chalk hand
drawing
a white rat
thin as a whip
Wednesday
stalking
II.
Jan. 14, 2009:
Patient believes she is spending her psychotic episodes on an imaginary island…
The ocean is always January
rain-dark and pounding
Summer shores with smooth white buildings,
rats perched on their tops.
Pebbled walkways and
fine green light.
When the temperature rises,
the buildings scribble out. Wednesday finds her
toothsome
on the shore border.
Like filmstrips overlaid, this place
and that place. She sat on my lap and said
“She’s not pregnant anymore!” to someone who wasn’t there.
The fear that our own eyes are half-closed and wisdom
or fear keeps them.
Like film negatives overlaid: the regular
and the real.
The eyes half-collapsed, the child half-consumed
fears and sees more.
III.
Jan. 21, 2009:
Patient wants order and perfection in play, toys, stories…
Furiously twining
fingers and flipping wrists wildly,
she passes out
sandwiches. Each has a gaunt layer
of butter to keep them dry.
Watercress and goat cheese
to Saturday, Friday, Thursday,
cucumber and egg
to Tuesday, Monday, Sunday.
Then the scones come out, scarred with clotted
cream. The milk is served already with lemons
but the crusted sugar cubes must be scraped,
into the tidy shape.
The milk is spoiled and spilt
before the boiling of
a green tea called Gunpowder.
The rats clatter their cups
Wednesday always pours the tea.
