The Gate: A Poem About Memory, Fractured Reality, and Altered Perception

The Gate

The tab that passes parted lips
Is a permission slip, a ticket
Admission to within
Recognition amidst blissful innocence
(It kicks in)

You wait impatiently at the gate
Kept by the watchful eye of I
Key turns, tumbles, click, creak
Unlocked

You turn, uncertain
But feel the squeeze of your hand
A subtle nod, and then
A widening, knowing grin

***

Time again for your pills, Mother
This one for your heart
This, for your mind
To help you remember
It’s important, Mother, on your tongue
Swallow
Swallow
Do you know who I am?

I wait impatiently at the gate
Mother, May I come in
May we play the game again
Red Rover
Red Rover
Send the bedlam over