Three Poems From Christine Hamm
[her brain and club foot]*
Through the bathroom
window, you track a hummingbird
dabbing at the feeder.
A black particulate floats
along the pink syrup. Smell of stale
newspapers and rot.
A series of differently
shaped pills, then the liquids to
subdue the pills. Even
asleep, you can feel him
drift under the covers -- damp,
clicking his teeth like an insect.
* The title in brackets is taken from the records of a doctor who treated the mentally ill: From Case 10, “Twenty-two cases of Juvenile General Paralysis” 1899, Federick Walker Mott
[in an early stage]*
Television about the dead,
the magic in their bodies. A series of
differently shaped pills, then
liquids to subdue the pills.
An elderly Vulcan woman sits in black
silks, her throne elevated.
Your eyes drift to the fire. The last
time you rested your thumb against the red
spiral of the stove, you felt your scalp lift.
* The title in brackets is taken from the records of a doctor who treated the mentally ill: From Case 10, “Twenty-two cases of Juvenile General Paralysis” 1899, Federick Walker Mott
[careless in her dress]*
In the back ward, when birds fly overhead, their
shadows follow as faint stains. A series of differently
shaped pills, then liquids to subdue the pills. He
leaves you an offering under the fire alarm –
a blue bowl with water, milk, a half-smoked cigar.
A monster of such caliber is easily bored.
* The title in brackets is taken from the records of a doctor who treated the mentally ill: From Case 10, “Twenty-two cases of Juvenile General Paralysis” 1899, Federick Walker Mott
You can find more from Christine over on Instagram!
