Asylum
There is no edge
no end, this possession
never severs always
extends, envelopes, diffuses,
collapses
it has no shape I know
I am mad
or tempted so
commit me
to asylum
that cradle where
the nurse is just a muse
downloading
a heaven
where ghosts
are granted stays
of persecution
that state of grace
looking out at
the rest of you
on guard
or looking in at
all of us
loitering
all the fools
at the gate
forthcoming in Poetry Motel