Ian Emberson Poems >>
Lingering by the doorway of the woods

I was picking blackberries when I thought of the strange girl at the mental hospital.
Beautiful she was - quietly beautiful. Yes - and apparently nothing the matter with
her - except that she was scared to go outside, and scared to go indoors. And so she just sat there in a chair by the entrance door - she was there when I went in with the

library trolley : she was there when I came out. But that was thirty years ago. Odd

that I should have thought of her just then.