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cotard’s syndrome :: sara michas-martin

by on February 20, 2015

“Jeanie was well oriented for time, place and person…
as for being dead or alive, she was all at sea.”
                                                      — Paul Broks, Neuropsychologist

I was sitting in a usual chair, my lips
dry as dust
            I was aware of my tongue,
limp between my teeth

I swallowed water
felt it slosh inside my chest like a hose
dumped over a bucket of nothing

My organs sagged out of place,
the rest of me
                        on the ghost feed

In time
my mouth closed into a scar
and soon I didn’t have a face
to speak out of
                        my limbs
a halo of shadows
orbiting my voice

I sense death waiting: a driver
with a sign at the airport

I’m inside the terminal
somewhere counting backwards

            I am basically air

I flush through rooms like a draft
made by someone else

opening and closing a door

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From → poems

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