Photography © Shannon O’Connor

 

Death and Dancing

When a person is psychotic
anything could happen
we have no control
of ourselves
We can crack
explode
like Hiroshima
on a bad hair day

When I was psychotic,
I liked to dance
I would whip up a storm
performing for the devil
if he was watching,
but mostly it was other
patients

I sang too,
but I stank at that,
people in the hospital asked
what I did with the money
my mother gave me
for singing lessons,
I said she never gave me
any, just for dancing

I never killed
anyone, but I
could have. If I had,
everyone would know
my name, I’m glad
they don’t

I was the dancing
psychotic nobody remembers,
for that I am
grateful
Dancing in anonymity
for the present time
Hiding behind my wall
of books and papers
barricaded
pondering the world
full of sadness
brush it away
with a fantasy place
I invented, drink honey tea
work remotely
pretending I’m like everyone
else
I’m talented at hiding
nobody realizes I was a magnificent dancer
better than the alternative

 

Shannon O’Connor holds an MFA in Writing and Literature from Bennington College. She has been published previously in Oddball, as well as Wordgathering, 365 Tomorrows and The Rye Whiskey Review. She is the chair of the Boston Chapter of the National Writers Union. She lives in the Boston area and works in a hospital.