When your son is diagnosed in the 1960s

     by Katherine DiBella Seluja

It’s a cord that wraps itself around a cord

That carries electricity and blood.

They say it might work, they say it might not.

Just a little buzz and sting.

They say don’t worry, go home and cook dinner, don’t worry

We know it’s all your fault.

We know this now deep in the heat of the 1960s.

His psychosis is tied to your mothering.

But it’s time to cut the cord and be careful of the sting.

He’ll be just like the day you brought him home

Wrapped in a blue blanket, drooling.

So what if you have to teach him how to hold a spoon?

You still have those alphabet flash cards don’t you?

They must be in the basement wrapped tight with cords.

Never mind if you can’t find his rubber soled shoes,

He won’t need them just yet.

So go along and finish up the shopping.

We know you want to get that roast in the oven on time.

© 2014  Katherine DiBella Seluja

Katherine DiBella Seluja is a nurse poet who invites her experiences in healthcare to inform her writing.  Katherine’s work has appeared in Adobe Walls, American Journal of Nursing, Barefoot Review, bosque, Connotation Press, Orange Room Review and Santa Fe Literary Review, among others. She is currently working on a collection dedicated to her schizophrenic brother.