Days of Wine and Anvils — Julie Wenglinski
He’s a psychiatrist for the astronauts
with a cubist right eye
that sees multiple views at once.
He tells me
the cellular tug of tension I feel
is the delusion we all have
that we can control things.
But it’s raining glaciers,
and if a crazy person loves you,
is it really love?
I put my head in my hands.
Someone has their thumb on my depression.
He asks me again,
how it is I survived.
I was 12 and my mother had a gun.
She shot my younger brother
and paralyzed him,
but I wrestled the gun away from her.
Every time I see her,
I wrestle the gun away from her.
My brother asks
if I see the clouds pass over her face.
I never look there.
The doctor says I remain
in a highly vigilant state
of emotional emergency.
I raise my head.
Can I fly above the hurricane,
is that possible,
and stay safe?
Julie Wenglinski is originally from St. Louis and moved to Titusville, Florida in1964 because her father worked on the space program. After receiving a BiologyDegree in 1975 in Boca Raton, Julie moved to Richmond, VA and worked for 30 years in Information Technology. After retirement, she began taking writing classes. She has had poetry and flash fiction published online and in print.