To the Therapist with a Stained Glass Rainbow in Their Window

by Julie Poole

This I know well. The difficulty 

of sitting upright. My plan today 

to take a picture of names 

listed outside of a building 

to search online for the therapist 

who has PRIDE in the window.

A rainbow suncatcher twisting 

from the ceiling, refracting 

light. I need light, I suppose,

a couch cushion to confirm where 

I am amidst mixed syntax—tenses all

awry, spelling in Mores code, help.

The tired is a lot like swallowing 

a thousand stones. No danger 

of floating anywhere. I keep the blinds

closed but the sun makes patterns 

anyway, like an obsessed artist. 

If I don’t get around to taking a picture 

of the LPC’s name I hope, believe 

can help, that’s okay. Their 

open second story window is enough.

A rainbow. A couch. A room ready 

and welcoming for when I can move.