Another PTSD poem - an interesting symptom of which was that I had a flashback every time my baby daughter screamed.
Another PTSD poem - an interesting symptom of which was that I had a flashback every time my baby daughter screamed.
by Patrick Howse11 Jul 2013
Gurgling in high-chair,
Bashing a plastic spoon,
She displays her two teeth
When she laughs.
She tries out sounds
To see what they can do,
Learning the ancient spell
That turns noise to language.
Then, perfectly pitched
To white light,
She experiments
With a scream.
Part of my innermost ear
Which, lying deep,
Wants only to die,
Is kicked brutally alive.
Now, it's hot, now
Dust mingles in the air
With the urine-petrol taste
Of bomb in my throat.
Bouncing round my skull,
Pain brings me back,
Blinking I return
To the baby chuckling,
Biting her spoon
And tugging at her bib,
Delighted with the power
Of her voice.