by Kristie Humphrey
Music dispenses sunlight, and the staff
give care. “All is well, no need to worry!”
You laugh, stay indoors for safety’s behalf,
smell indifferent roses, Bingo – again.
You’re tired, I know, and bewildered, too,
familial faces, nowhere to be found.
You hear the knell, wondering what to do,
your life walks with steady paces.
Meant to help, blankets of kind intentions,
but robot hearts, push-button, wear spiritless.
Ears, sieves of sound, your questions imprison,
and hands reaching, grip, but no hugs for healing.
Time quails. You feel it cower to the ground.
They’ve locked the doors, and there’s no one around.
Born and raised in Oklahoma, Kristie Humphrey studies creative writing at Oklahoma State University, majoring in English. She lives comfortably on her rural property with her six children, four cats, fish, and a sweet, but unimaginatively named, dog, Tiny.