YOUR ELECTRIC-SHOCK THERAPY. By John Grey

Thanks to Tesla and Edison,
your head is not what it was.
For the better or worse,
your scribbles aren’t saying.

I spoke to your father.
He said there was no other choice.
Either wire you up
or your brain goes back to the store.

Your eyes give no indication.
When I sit by your bedside.
I see them sparkle for a time
but then the blankness

shutters them like a window
prepared for hurricanes.
Except, in your world,
the bad weather finds another way in.

Just the thought of electricity
jolting a defenseless head
conjures up the bolt of lightning
that snapped Frankenstein’s monster awake.

But you’re no monster.
Just some kid doodling on paper.
A hand, a pencil, a dull expression.
No way to know what else is there.

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in

Hawaii Pacific Review, Dalhousie Review and Qwerty with work upcoming

in Blueline, Willard and Maple and Clade Song.