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Freud’s War

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A cento

I became a therapist against my will
A strange feeling of forlornness, a feeling I could not have stood
Painful isolation, quite steep and slanting
A beautiful forest which had the one drawback of seeming never to end
I have had to struggle so long
I have always been frank with you, haven’t I?
I wanted to explain the reason for my inaccessibility
I am lying here on a short leash in this filthy hole
So far I haven’t been locked up
Several people point to gaps in my face where the little girl has been cut out
She screams and screams without any self-control
Ravaged by the heat and the blood-&-thunder melodrama
Neither describable nor bearable
I felt I had known her all my life

Source: Poetry (June 2015)

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This poem originally appeared in the June 2015 issue of Poetry magazine

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Freud’s War

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