I am Not in the Kitchen at the Mental Hospital
Collaborative Poem By Kimmy, Amy, Nanette, Brandi, Timesha, Ashley, Dawn,Yahuna and Daniel
In the kitchen at the mental hospital I see
The refrigerator is as big as the kitchen
and the pizza is shaped like the triangle I use at school.
The pizza has lots of cheese, it is cheesy.
I am not in the kitchen at the mental hospital
because I don’t need any medical stuff
like Aspirin or any stuff like that.
In the kitchen at the mental hospital I see
green and purple grapes in the white refrigerator
I am not in the kitchen at the mental hospital.
I work in a different area. If I go in the kitchen
I could get in big trouble. I work in the nursing area.
In the kitchen at the mental hospital I see
a dark gray freezer, still and quiet
sitting in the corner,
filled with meds no one can touch
except the clerk. You wonder what’s in it.
You ask. You think of the freezer
tall and still
watching, panicking, I want
to open it. I am in the kitchen
at the mental hospital
wondering about all the pills I take
to get through the day with misery
and thoughts of dying.
In the kitchen at the mental hospital I see
cabinets with bottles, pills, Tylenol and aspirin.
I am in the kitchen at the mental hospital
because I am going psycho,
because of what I see.
In the kitchen at the mental hospital I see
a sink, a stove, spices, pills, metal drawers and tiled floors,
no sharp objects. Mental people are there, wearing white.
There are medical records in the drawers.
The medical records belong to the patients
that had to take the medicine in the empty drawers.
Some of the patients were crazy and some
just plain psycho paths with very long
and disturbing histories.
I am not in the kitchen at the mental hospital
because I didn’t lose my mind
and have a mental temper tantrum
or nervous breakdown.
In the kitchen at the mental hospital I see
a dark silver spoon with remains of dried up slop,
a cabinet filled with cheap, government food.
I see a closet full of old, dusty brooms and
kitchen counters holding unfinished meals,
invaded by maggots. I see a dirty tile floor
with black in the white corners.
The room is empty, the hospital is abandoned
the room is a lost, empty soul
forbidden the consumption of light.
I am not in the kitchen at the mental hospital
because it is abandoned,
due to… (homicide, massacre?)
In the kitchen at the mental hospital I see food,
white bread, metal spoons with designs,
white plastic spoons, pots—silver pots,
a frying pan black and heavy, a fork
sharp and silver, I see people scary, tall and dark,
I see a rolling pin, cup cake pans, soap, a sponge,
rags, containers, chairs, tables, windows and curtains.
I see a knife shinny as mirror, and long
like a caterpillar. It has dots like a clock and the tip
is like the tip of my pencil,like the color of my cat.
I am at the mental hospital kitchen because I am 18
and I have a job here. I am cooking mashed potatoes
and gravy with steak and corn. Three tortillas
for the patients that are in the hospital. That’s why
I’m here in the mental hospital in the kitchen.
I am not in the kitchen at the mental hospital
because I am not insane. Sometimes I feel
like I am, but I am not. In the kitchen
at the mental hospital I see The cold white
deep freezer. This kitchen is nippy and plates are stacked
as high as the sky.
I am in the kitchen at the mental hospital because I need Ice
and I am hungry. I smell fried chicken the chicken
is very cold and old. Down the hall I hear a song
that I have not heard in so long—memories
of my journey to this place, I was once displaced in space. |
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