I suppose it’s strange work,
in a locked ward where
the margins of sanity expand
to the doors of infinity.
Each individual claiming
their territory of hallucination
even to the point of withering.
 
The seizure patients are different
and each different from the other.
Some have the classic variety,
stiffening with eyes rolled away,
body tensing everywhere
Has his breathing stopped?
Is this the end?
When the tsunami subsides
the near-lifeless body
is helped into white sheets
and left on the edge of consciousness.
 
I hear metal banging
and find Arnold sprawled
in the custodial closet.
He crawls in his seizures
like he’s swimming or climbing,
legs and arms constantly moving,
head and neck straining.
I get into the swim with him
try to keep his head from the mop bucket,
his arms from the steel legs of a cabinet,
his shins from kicking the junk
I’ve never noticed before.
 
Red comes by and stares.
He’s half into a manic phase
and unpredictable, bouncing.
As plain as I can, I say,
“Get the nurse, he’s having a seizure.”
Minutes peel away before she arrives,
then runs back for a syringe.
 
Jesse leans forward as he walks
and somehow when he starts to blank out
he falls headfirst into the floor.
He will get up from a chair,
leaving his helmet behind,
heading for who knows where,
then stops, bobs up and down
before keeling into tile-covered concrete.
The top of his head is mushy and often bloody.
Whenever we see him without his helmet
we rush to put it on.
Jesse diminishes daily.
 
Swing shift over, I change out of my whites
and drive uptown.
The Chinese place is still open.
Fried rice and BBQ pork
before the drunks arrive.