In the Ward of Fevered Minds Bed after bed, child after child. Some calm, some thrashing. Some laughing, some wailing. Calling for mommy. Calling for God. One sits up, eyes open, asking. I go to him, sit, answer. He nods, falls back, gone again. I was once in a bed like them— fevered, deluded. Now I’m in a chair— I suppose it’s better. A roomful of loonies. I return to my crossword puzzle Until the next one sits up, asks. Jed McKenna
