Disaster North
Tuesday morning, Marcus holds his shoulders like a question mark. The intake nurse
marks the calendar: Thursday—property destruction.
She’s never wrong.
This is what the body learns:
to taste copper before the lockdown bell,
to pack your things before anyone says transfer,
to know which overnight staff will pretend
the camera’s broken, which therapist
will cry in her car, who will quit by Christmas
by the way they hold their clipboard in October.