the grey iron bed,
the faint grey-green light
on the matt grey door to number 14 –
with fingers in tight yellow-grey skin
the nurse gives me my powder –
my consciousness floats away
in a heavy, wooly mist –
then I hear through the wall
a sudden moaning cry
like a scream sunk down into cotton wool,
until the overpowering pressure
bursts the dry lips apart –
the heavy powdermist sails away,
and I hear only this stubborn stuttering cry,
sometimes interrupted by a gurgling yell –
hard steps roar on the linoleum in the hall –
the crying stops,
like when a switch is flipped off –
a trembling lump in a grey straightjacket
is carried past outside –
the powdermist again falls down over my bed,
and everything, I know,
heaves like a heavy grey blanket
on my eyes –