The Shepherd of My Mind

by  Mitchell Garrard

My mind was split
like the spine of a book.
My doctor said,
“it’s strange to be seen. To be heard
is much worse.” Thunder sang
like a dream. I haven’t slept in days.
I haven’t woken up in years.
I had a prescription for indecision.
I refilled the next day.
My mind stopped splitting,
but the masoleum stayed the same.
Steamrollers came to roost;
in Spring, a dull witness, I watched them
flatten the horizon.
Winter’s bell fell quiet
as I fled through the moor.
I lurked like the shepherd
who made a wife out of wool.