photograph of Elizabeth Packard and the book Kate Moore wrote about her
Around the Bend
Ginger Cat has gone for the day to the vet,
which means I, Small Mouse in the Corner,
am allowed to enjoy their sad choreography.
First movement dings the chimes at dawn.
Meds from night before wakes them groggy;
stiff joints rise, swing from rubber-mattressed
beds; cold toes seek rubber, formed scuffs.
Starch-stiffed scrubs worn by hairy hulks
crank keys in their creaky metal locks; urge
them to, in military formation, shit, shower,
and shave in fifteen. They shuffle to long
mold-decored morning hygiene calisthenics,
then dress in amorphous elasticized pastels
before shuffling to meds window for the
usual suspect pills gagged down with juice.
Act 2 finds them in a paint-flaked gym, rows
spaced for windmills and crunches, a dance
set to Muzak’s non-compelling beats, hazy
on why they want health, longevity in their
purgatory place, where free is a failed idea.
Third Act gives choice: to wander iron-fenced
grounds or to play checkers or watch TV,
waiting for sessions with bespectacled,
overeducated, overpaid interrogators who
ask the same questions but aren’t interested
in any real answers. They scribble notes
for files nobody will ever read, unless they
jump from a roof or slice and hot sink.
Lunch jumps along as the bell salivates
those desperate for break in monotony of
an endless day. Lunch meat sandwiches,
soft-sour oranges, shallow bowl of grease
with green bean soup and oyster crackers.
White ball falls behind tree tops as they
once again shuffle to meds window, ready
for sleep, where dreams are their only
escape. Night shift stiff-scrubbed hulks
tuck them in, not kind, but not unkind.
Some kneel on cold floors, to say prayers
they’ve been saying since children, as
the sound of keys turn to lock their doors.
I, Small Mouse, skitter to my nest in wall,
made of white to brown collected hairs; fall
fast asleep to their groan-filled lullabies.
“Around the Bend” is a slang term for going insane, (or falling to sleep) which is another ambiguous term for critical mental health issues that might need inpatient hospitalization. It is not meant to be offensive, but it fits the prompt ask.
This is an interesting combination of prompts, where one calls for a personal perspective and the other calls for an other perspective. After the poem was written, I went to look for images. I first looked for VanGogh’s paintings of his time in the asylum, but then I thought of Kate Moore’s book on Elizabeth Packard, where Elizabeth was involuntarily committed to an asylum because her political views were different than her minister husband’s. The story is hair-raising and a piece of history that they most pointedly do not teach in schools (yet!)
Thank you to Truedessa and Bjőrn for serendipitously making Elizabeth’s story possible with your prompts.
Tao Talk 
I love that this scene – which is drawn so effectively – is seen through a mouse’s eyes. The mouse misses nothing! I love “where free is a failed idea” and those who ask the same questions but arent interested in any real answers. Wow. Spot on. I have worked in various facilities, and my son lives in one, after his stroke, and that mouse has sharp eyes.
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Sherry, thank you so much for your comment. The book says so much, and I’ve seen a lot of facilities for kids when I was still working. Also, when my mom was placed in one the last few months of her life. Still haunting. I hope your son is well cared for.
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Identity gets lost in places of illness, or perceived illness. I remember the term “around the bend” but I haven’t heard it used in a long time. There’s no map to that journey. (K)
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Kerfe, that book will haunt you. How she survived it is beyond me. Well-said on one’s identity getting lost in those places. Dehumanization is the first step.
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A very creative take on the prompt, Lisa.
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Thank you, Dwight.
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You are most welcome, Lisa!
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You made me see both the prompts in a different perspective.
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Reena, thank you, and I’m happy to hear it.
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Speaking as someone who had been around the bend and spent most of life ‘locked up’ somewhere this really resonates. I love the third verse for this – and am glad the little mouse is small enough not to get locked up too – Jae
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<3 Thank you for reading and sharing your life experience. I'm glad the cat was away so the mouse could see.
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Well, this post has EVERYTHING
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Steve, I hope in a good way, not an overambitious way? Thanks for reading and giving it a chance.
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In a very good way. A compliment for sure
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Thanks much <3
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I have just read Ange’s poem, Lisa, so yours comes as a bonus, written from the point of view of a mouse in an asylum – I love the way you set the scene, which reminded me of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, especially in the lines:
‘Meds from night before wakes them groggy;
stiff joints rise, swing from rubber-mattressed
beds; cold toes seek rubber, formed scuffs’
and
‘…dress in amorphous elasticized pastels
before shuffling to meds window for the
usual suspect pills gagged down with juice.’
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Kim, thanks for reading and sharing your favorite lines. I think there is a numbingly sameness to places like those. Kerfe said it well in her comment. What is shared here is the tip of the iceberg of what dear Elizabeth suffered during her experience — and she was one of the lucky ones because she got out alive.
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A very pleasurable read. I kind of liked the mouse’s perspective.
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V, thank you. The Mouse sees all. My poem is just a hint of what happens.
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What an interesting opening contrast:”to enjoy their sad choreography.” This was an intriguing perspective you chose.
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A mouse can only see from a mouse’s perspective. Imagining the mouse being dispassionately entertained by the mysterious ways of the humans who s(he) shares living space with (and who provide soft hairs for a nest.) Thank you for reading, Maria, and looking beyond the surface.
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I didn’t read the comment before, but it made me think about the assylum where in my mind I thought about “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest ” which also worked with the element of humor as well as tragedy… loved the sense of being inside a playwright’s mind.
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Bjorn, thank you for your thoughtful comment. I remember writing one about the cat in VanGogh’s asylum to Melissa’s prompt awhile back that is similar to this one.
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This is outstanding, Lisa! A poem like this takes a lot of courage and heart to write. I resonate with; “They scribble notes for files nobody will ever read, unless they jump from a roof or slice and hot sink.” 💙💙
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Sanaa, thank you. It is the least I can do for individuals, past and present, who have found themselves in such circumstances.
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Li, I loved this! I didn’t know what around the bend meant but I did pick up on who was being talked about. The psychiatric care in all countries has an atrocious history even though it has helped many. I love reading about the abandoned asylums and things they find. I read a book by David Viergutz called Insanitorium, your writing made me think of that.
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Christine, thanks so much. Frank Prem, who used to work in a psychiatric inpatient facility in his hometown in Australia, wrote a beautiful book of poems about his experience there.
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I volunteered at a facility a few years before it was closed in CT. The state closed all of them. I was placed on a ward that was for the criminally insane, rape, murder, etc. who had not been sentenced yet. Scary shit. But guess what happened to all those scary people when the place closed?!!??? Yeah, now they haunt the streets and people don’t know what to do about it.
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Christine, that does sound terrifying, being on a ward with such individuals, and I don’t think you can have any kind of protective device on you because they can be taken away from you and used on you and others? My conclusion is that there is a need for locked facilities, but they are too often filled with individuals who don’t need to be there. Drug dealers, property criminals, etc. have no place behind bars. The locked facilities are full of them, and the ones who really need to be locked up “haunt the streets” and often keep hurting others or terrorizing communities.
Thank you for sharing your experience.
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Li, you are spot on with that! I’m not saying people who commit crimes shouldn’t be punished or held accountable but lets save the help for those that really need it!
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An amazing write if somewhat depressing Li, and my favourite lines are
“hazy
on why they want health, longevity in their
purgatory place, where free is a failed idea”
Asylums here in the UK were full of women who had done nothing more than get pregnant out of wedlock and were put away by their families to save embarrassment – until the asylums closed down and they were made to “live in the community” – hard for the then institutionalised…
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Thanks very much, Andrew. People have been locked up, drugged up, and beat down for all kinds of reasons. When you become institutionalized for years, it is a radical adjustment to the individual. I don’t want to say this, but in my old job, I saw many kids institutionalized by being “locked up” again and again for criminal behavior.
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Lisa, your poetry overwhelms ~ I also thought of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, filmed in Salem, only three hours from our home. The mere thought of people locked in a facility brings cold chills. Unimaginable. Your poem, from the perspective of Mr. / Ms. Mouse hits every atrocity patients might experience, every abandonment as well. This was a hard poem to read … it was a must read.
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HD, thank you for your sensitive and thoughtful comment. I really wish the poem hit every atrocity, but it’s the tip of the iceberg. The place depicted here is probably an idealized, best case scenario.
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Don’t know if you have an answer or a suggestion, all of a sudden my image and name [Helen] have disappeared. Any thoughts as to what has happened or how I might fix?
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Oh Helen, I didn’t know it was you. Not sure what you see on your screen, but wherever your profile pic is, click on your name by it and you should see “edit profile” which is where I think you can put your name back in. Hope it works. I have no idea about the Ghost in the Word Press Machine. It does quirky things often.
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Thanks so much, this is a test [sorry] to see if I succeeded. Blogger and WordPress like to squabble.
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Passed! :) Happy I “see” you again.
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This is outstanding, Li! I loved the use of the mouse as narrator.
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Sara, glad you connected with it <3
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All the things a small mouse sees. Wonderfully wrought.
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Thank you, Melissa. The choreography of institutionalization through the eyes of a mouse.
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