The Patient

I have no idea what happens when I turn my back.
I sleep through everything.
It is quite stupid how I never open my eyes.

The carpet is luscious. The blossom at the window is spectacular.
I try to keep them apart.
There are more grown-ups than I know what to do with.
I have a different Darling for each one. I inflect it.

I miss everything — the haunted wardrobe, the bald landlady,
the slurring woman crashing up and down the stairs,
Look after her, Look after her, Pierrot with his little spoon.

Notes:

This poem originally appeared in The Poetry Review. You can read the other poems in this exchange in the May 2017 issue.

Source: Poetry (May 2017)
More Poems by Lucy Tunstall