Small room, only the right

                                    twin bed mine, half

                                    the bookshelf, half the table

                                    and one chair so half

                                    time      chair      sitting

                                    I miss those tranquilisers sometimes

                                    wish I’d kept the ones they slipped

                                    in a small paper envelope

                                    for my test night at home

                                    when the ward went up in smoke

                                              someone set a bed on fire

                                    and I missed it

                                    Two weeks later the next arsonist

                                              nurses changed the sheets too soon

                                              fine ash everywhere

                                    home again for a night

                                    I missed that too

                                    If I were still delusional

                                    seeking connections at all costs

                                    I would feel responsible

                                    for incendiary

                                    absence