← v18n2, Fall 2019
Poetry · Volume 18, Number 2

Diorama (a moment with the doctor)

The story needs to get going.

He picks up one of the smoky vials on the shelf.

He isn’t motivated solely by wanting to control the blonde girl.

He gives other people chemicals he doesn’t understand,

takes some himself.

On his pre-dawn walk, the doctor diagnoses himself

with having a heart like a trellis.

He asks that you don’t laugh at him

as he stands on the night-wet sand to undress.

He never wanted this moment to be recorded.

The water is dangerously cold. The morning is still

except for the low murmur of narration.

He wishes he could be like the other townspeople

and refuse to create names for the crimes he wants to keep committing.

Sarah, Jane? Behind him,

He’s in the water now, up to his chest.

He lifts his feet.