the asylum visit

i pack

a lunch and make the drive

upstate

to visit the ex

in the asylum.

i hear she's doing better now.

her self inflicted wounds

have healed.

modern

medicine is a wonderful

thing.

she looks great in white,

she looks

like flour,

whitened with age.

her eyes large

and open, squinting

in the light.

her hair wild, and all

over the place.

for the visit

they've loosened 

her straps

and put fresh bandages

around her

wrists.

i put my hand up to the glass

and she

does the same.

we get along so well now.