Frank Prem

Franks Psychiatry 5 #63: the other one

paul
paul
I’m sorry I yelled at you before paul
but it wasn’t me
it was the third one
inside my belly

 

it was the other one paul
it wasn’t me

 

she always calls me paul
gets easily confused
among the various male nurses

 

moments ago
she was screaming at me
a berating sprinkled with suitably dire threats
and heartfelt curses
because I’d refused to make a third cup of coffee

 

a tempest
whipped up and blown out
in a few banshee breaths
then the regrets

 

I’m sorry paul
you know it was that other one
in the middle

 

she points a finger to her abdomen

 

I’m only six years old paul
I shouldn’t have to take
all these tablets

 

she tucks back an unruly mass
of stringy grey-streaked hair
fixes her gaze
somewhere beyond my left shoulder
and wanders outside
in search of another cigarette

 

~