on our way home
from the clinic we stare
blankly out the window
too exhausted to cry

the clouds appear
as crumpled tissues pasted
hastily to the surface
of a chalky blue sky

as if curated by the mind
of a child,
given only gentle instructions
to create without rules

a vial of pills rattles
from within your purse
like a baby’s toy, a haunting
rhythm for our procession

everything seems so unreal
this scene of our own crafting

how can we honor our creation
when we made the decision
to take it away?

this child may be un-known
but will not be
un-remembered.

 

Marcus Wilson is an MFA candidate in poetry at Lindenwood University, whose work explores memory, inner life, and personal transformation, with recurring themes of recovery and neurodivergence.