My psychiatrist is the radio.
Today he is a horrible morning talkback
Show. with each line a new
Repetition. makes his test scores
Perfection. is obtainable with
Time. allows him to verge further into the
Radio. signals crackle as I mention
Wylie Coyote. really should have beaten RoadRunner at least
Once. the radio turns off the room still is not in
Silence. lurks in the air because he does not
Believe. in the words that I am
Saying.
Next is the midday
News. travels fast especially
Scandal. and rumour surrounds his disappearance from my everyday
World. class psychiatrists are hard to come by these
Days. drift and the radio becomes more and more
Unreliable. I cannot hear
The psychiatrist. cannot hear
The radio. cannot hear
Me.
Years pass and finally a Sunday sermon
Plays. and children slip back into my
Life. is more habitual
Now. I can remember the order of the letters in my middle
Name. the three objects in front of
The psychiatrist. is no longer in the
Radio. still fills my
House. with husband and kids I am
Reliable. I can hear
The radio. can hear
The psychiatrist. can hear
Me.
But he’s still not listening.
- Emma Macdonald