Training Room Rictus
Amongst the recyclable coffee cups
and coloured pencils
a woman peels a tangerine
The facilitator wears a rictus
and crosses her fingers
behind her back
She clears her throat
and sees a man with a ginger beard
peer at his watch
On the inside of her head
she has written the words
Please like my course
They will reflect on their time;
In this house filled with passing time
is where I leaned to tie shoelaces
and where is ate my first pizza
I see the picture on the way to the prom,
the car outside on my wedding day
and when mum and dad celebrated new additions
Then later years when things got bad;
the death bed carried to the downstairs room
the tearful nights and the final goodbyes
Now the moving truck backs up
and a new set of memories
prepares to unfurl
One day they will also reflect on their time
As I leave for the last time
I turn and look back at the house
and see it stretching into the future
but saved by a man
with a fence across the top of his head
What is a green light?
What is a green blue light?
What is a red light?
What is a white light?
Am I Dali?
Making sense of the world
I notice you through a haze of broken glass
which gives an asymmetrical view
like an endlessly overflowing basin,
until I am fully awake.
By Henry Bladon
- Henry Bladon is based in Somerset in the UK. He is a writer of short fiction and poetry and teaches creative writing for therapeutic purposes. He has degrees in psychology and mental health policy, and a PhD in literature and creative writing. He frequently writes commentary about mental health issues and his literary work can be seen in O:JA&L, Pure Slush, Mercurial Stories, The Ekphrastic Review, and Spillwords Press, among other places.