DAVID HARKINS POETRY
NATIONAL POETRY DAY
The psychiatrist crosses her legs, regards the pair of us who sit
down opposite her. It is the second appointment. And you refuse
medication: "Because this is a war," you cry. The psychiatrist cannot make sense of it: what you speak of, whom you speak of, what
kind of world you inhabit. A name crops up - Robert De Niro (close
friend and former lover) - to make the psychiatrist realise you need help.
The psychiatrist likes asking you questions: “How are you feeling? You were talking just now - Marlon Brando. Is he a good friend too? Are you sleeping well?” And for forty five minutes or so we sit in the psychiatrist's room, as if in a pub, and we chatter away, chewing the fat. "Seeing a psychiatrist," you say, "will not make the slightest difference." And the psychiatrist remarks how easily a tablet dissolves in a cup of tea. And it is National Poetry Day. Before leaving, you show the psychiatrist your poetry. The psychiatrist calls the poems beautiful, and photocopies them for your file.
David Harkins 10 10 03
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NATIONAL POETRY DAY
NATIONAL POETRY DAY
