The Nine of Swords

I sprawl amongst the folded grey bed sheets.

My body balancing. My arm is trapped

I can see toast crumbs in the carpets warp.

Blank eyes. Numb hand. To my head – Blood rush,

Knowing that I’d fall with just a small push.

 

I lie right on the edge of my mattress.

I lie there and close my eyes to a squint.

My eyelashes steal the details and tint

my room from green to a grey-blue instead.

Today, I don’t think I’ll get out of bed.

 

You come in with food that looks like vomit

and tell me I must eat and get up now.

But then I turn away and disavow

my bodily needs for food and such things.

You pull the blinds up and make my eyes sting.

 

I’ve not seen the sun for three or four days.

But now, though my eyes hurt, I do not blink.

The carpet crumbs are mocking me I think.

I bury my face in the grey bed sheets.

You kneel in front and insist that I eat.

 

I push the bowl of what I presume is

Muesli. With Soya milk. As bland as me.

Stop staring at me. I don’t want you to see.

The bowl falls. I pull the sheets over my head.

Just one movement, one push. I fall…I’m dead.

 

But I don’t fall and the next thing I know

I’m no longer balancing on the edge.

My small bare feet stood on a sandy ledge.

It’s brittle and grey and covered in moss

And below the sea and then land across

 

I stand on the grey rock and the green moss.

My eyes are full of salty tears. Straw hair

that the wind whips from below everywhere.

Far down below the cliff kisses the sea.

And suddenly I feel like me.

 

Something I do not feel when I’m like this.

Over the edge, I hold one of my legs.

And the wind, and the sea, and the gulls beg.

And I’m not one to disappoint am I?

You know what? I don’t think you’d even cry?

 

Perhaps it would be like in the cartoons.

Where they do not fall unless they look down.

Then when they do, there’s an explosive sound.

So I step out into the air and stare

Anywhere but down. The wind in my hair.

 

I start to panic and my eyes focus

On the sea. The sea that will be my death

I didn’t have the time to catch my breath.

Then, at that very moment, my leg twitched.

And the sea, and the sand to my bed switched.

 

I’m on the floor now. I can hear breathing.

My eyes wide. My arm not numb. I’m not bland.

Still clutching mine. I feel something. A hand.

I must have fallen lightly off my bed.

For with that movement. That push. I’m not dead.

 

The sun has gone now and the darkness fills

Every single cranny in our bedroom.

That I thought soon would become but a tomb

Though it’s dark in here, I feel that I’m home.

I gaze into the black. I’m not alone.

 

An exhausted smile meets my big round eyes.

I’m not getting better. I never will.

Yet somehow, you find, you can love me still.

You don’t see it as a fault. Just different

My head against your chest. I smell your scent.

 

And that is how we slept that night. Your arms

Hold tight but comfortable around my chest

Both feeling that we had somehow been blessed

For, even though I was often depressed

And even though he tended to get stressed

 

We’re kind of happy, in our own imperfect way.

We just made sure we never looked down.