Delusions

Nothing is ever the same as
they said it was. It's what
I've never seen before that I recognize.
-Diane Arbus

I lie in a bed and I stare
at the white ceiling; I have forgotten
how to sleep, or eat,
forgotten the meaning of grief,
and the shape of your face.

Only the sound of your voice remains
like a caged squirrel running 'round in my head
and I can only hear certain phrases --
your answering machine, sighs of relief,
your laughter, there, once in the rain.

Nothing anyone said of you is true,
nor are my own vital sensations.
It's just that I have never known this paralysis
before, this numb gratitude, this paste up
of a dumpy doll, fever one hundred and four.

I recognize you standing there at the door
but know you are not there at all.