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.


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