Tuesday, May 31, 2016

Tuesday poem #165 : Claire Lacey : SCAT 3



Concussion is a disturbance in brain function caused by a direct or indirect force
to the head. It results in a variety of non-specific signs and / or symptoms (some
examples listed below) and most often does not involve loss of consciousness.
Concussion should be suspected in the presence of
any one
or more
of the following:


1.
on you it’s snowing a disturbance. Symptoms should fog and stall. Direct stroke indirect. Please release me, my darling triggers atypical presentation. I miss music like I miss myself. The curve of the earth a skull flashing, drunken ship lilts and suspected. Out of focus, e.g., unsteadiness, e.g., not tracking, e.g., shutters, e.g., pick up a glass of water and the wind outside it’s dark and the syllables unslung: I’m all alone in here, what if there’s a murderer, a man with an axe and a grin and the glass shatters, my hand forgotten its purpose.


2.
You’ve got red on you. It’s day 5 and I
can read but every sentence carries a cost.
I read anyways to stop the chatter.
If I read for 10 minutes the pain escalates.
Who is this stranger weeping in my bed? If
20 minites, unslung syllables when eye
compensation fatigues, snowy vision,
hypnothermia rolls in, fogging up the works.
Broekn, I think. Borken.
I can’t see the shape of it; is this a poem?

NOTE:
A hit to the head can sometimes be associated with a more serious brain
injury. Any of the following warrants consideration of activating emergency pro-
cedures and urgent transportation to the nearest hospital:


2.
The sea sucks
the river out with a straw,
leaving sludge slashed
with steel sky. Fog hunches
where the sun sets. Donut and ice cream
stalls shutter, last customers still licking
chops. It was a one two punch: shoulder to skull.
Deviation from baseline reveals cognitive dysfunction.
A year and half a world later,
the coast guard station illuminates
officers in yellow safety vests buzzing into radios;
four put on life preservers, climb into a rescue craft
towed by a tractor flashing blue lights.
They set off, too slow it seems, but speed
is hard to judge when riverbed stretches
over horizon. Back home in the foothills the horizon
hangs at 115.6km, give or take, but we are lower
here at the Humber, closer to the curve
of the earth. Soon they shrink
to flashing blue, still no offing in sight.


3.
“I am going to test your memory. I will read you a list of words and when I am done, repeat back as many words as you can remember, in any order.”

I think I’m having a stroke. Numbness
ice sharp spikes into my left side, skull
tectonics shaking down my spine, my
jaw my eye trembling skyscrapers no longer
straight cracked foundations. Danny’s not
here Mrs Torrance.
Blubbering snot runs
into my mouth moving
hurts I cry and want
my dog back
my mummy
anybody

please.

Heartbreak begins in the head, numbskull.
Every sentence carries a cost, and this
is my independence. You shouldn’t be alone,
the doctor said, go to emergency if there is any numbness
or tingling, but I don’t anticipate you will need to.
This is worse than numbness or
tingling, this is all the words like agony and
stabbing and motherfucking
 Call 911 (every sentence) call 911 (carries) call 911 (accost) please
but my body just lies.


5.
“I am going to repeat the same list again. Repeat back as many words as you can remember in any order, even if you said the word before.”

Helena: the blizzard triggers
staggering, sparkles like another
shot to the skull, no I’m not okay.
I hope the deer hits the car
so that everyone else survives.
This use of pronouns is forced
geometry unable to comply.
I know I have something to say,
the facial tic rolls
it into a ball beside
my tongue,
resting in my left cheek.


6.
It’s raining
It’s pouring
Sparkle is snoring
She went to bed
And bumped her head
And never got up in the morning.


7.
At least, sometimes I think that’s how it goes.


6.
On the porch, the snow that isn’t
here falls beautiful and thick in front of the evergreens.
Church bells aren’t ringing, there are no
churches. I meander like a drunkard,
pace the baseball diamond, a klutz waltz:
neuromuscular shamble of muscles not firing
and vestibular injury.
I realize I am replicant, a cyborg malfunction.
One two scuff.  “Mrs Palmer, there are things dark
and heinous
in this world.”
Practice makes perfect as I take the SCAT test again
and again (but every sentence carries a cost).

In the dark, wishing for shattered bones.
In the dark, wishing for a knock at the door.
In the dark, wishing for a doctor.
In the dark, vertigo of dead drunk punk decibels.
In the dark, deer on the road.


8.
“Do you remember that list of words I read a few times earlier? Tell me as many words from the list as you can remember in any order.”


9.

A cormorant stands black                                                    every sentence carries
sentry on a wooden piling
as the sea tucks itself in.                                                     a cost.



Claire Lacey currently lives in the UK. She holds an MA in English from the University of Calgary and a BA from York University. Her first book, Twin Tongues, won the Robert Kroetsch Award for Innovative Poetry. Her work has also appeared in Dandelion, The Windsor Review, and Filling Station. Claire currently blogs at ukcanuck.com

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan

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