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In the Room of My Life: After Anne Sexton

In the room of my life there is chaos

quiet desperation

in my Grand Avenue apartment

long scarves hang over the blue chaise lounge

bottles of colorful psychotropic drugs litter every surface

tangled, twisted white sheets, beige blankets

cover the unmade bed

in the room of my life

I reside in dark hopeless despair

half-started projects

fill the space of every exterior

desk, tabletops, the pink-and-white settee

in the room of my life

improvement churns slowly

résumés, unfinished poems, essays

scattered across the dining room desk

proving I am unwell

not my Type A self

in the room of my life

there is a woman who is lost

friends have moved on

tired of manic and depressive episodes

family rendered unable to help me

to regain energy, confidence, drive

who is the person I am now?

I ask myself incredulously.

In the room of my life

the cold winter briskness

breathes fresh air

through the cracked kitchen window

life is blowing through the room

lifting my spirits

friends reach out in spring

Poem: MARY HARROLD is a writer of poetry, creative nonfiction, and essays. She lives in the Twin Cities area. She is a graduate of the University of Minnesota and an enrolled member of the White Earth Nation of Ojibwe. She enjoys reading, her daily writing practice, and spending time with family and friends.

Photo: HEIDI PRENEVOST, Edward's Bed, Digital C-Print, 2008. Courtesy Plains Art Museum. Heidi is a multidisciplinary artist who explores what taking up space looks like and feels like. She lives and works in Brooklyn, New York.


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