It’s a bright sunny day outside.
Inside her childhood memories are melting away,
sinking deeper and deeper into electricity.
In this burning psychedelic daydream,
her cerebellum’s doing backflips and somersaults,
spinning rooms with fading hopes.
She sees the doctor’s dark eyes through the fog,
his hand twisting her fate with every turn,
her body convulses like a flapping salmon.
She bites down on the rubber mouthpiece,
her only anchor in this outdated technique.
Smoke rings rising to the top,
brain cells flicker like a flashing traffic light,
high pitched voices of opera singers,
black swans floating on muddy rivers.
Her body smells of burning rubber.
Her soul tells her never to give up.
This poem first published in the Scarlet Leaf Review in the March/April 2019 issue.
Crow On The Wire 
Love this piece.
Thank you. 🙂🙂
Wow. Amazing writing, Mark
Thank you, tara
I found this piece deeply moving, made all the more so because it was real. This horrible treatment happens all the time to people who cannot find their way to peace. Surely there must be a better way?
So true, jenanita. The practitioners would say it is only a last resort for those who don’t get better with therapy and medications but, like you, I wish we could come up with a better way.
For some reason, I thought this treatment had become a thing of the past.
No, Liz, ECT still exists, and used as needed.
An option of last resort?
Last resort, definitely. It knocks out some memory, but it can work in certain cases, especially those where medication is not helping and the depression is so severe.
Last resort, definitely. It knocks out some memory, but it can work in certain cases, especially the chr
chronically depressed where nothing seems to work.
love the imagery and energy of this piece
thanks, john.
“….her cerebellum’s doing backflips and somersaults, spinning rooms with fading hopes….” 💕💕💕 you given us beautiful poem to read 💙💙💙
Thank you, FN1. 🙂🙂🙂