Stages of Change
Micro Nonfiction by Tammy Smith
Hospitals have long hallways. In dimly lit rooms, tucked tightly beneath white sheets,
some admissions babbling for scripts are seeking release like babes needing milk. Others,
like Molly in bed number twelve, with track marks on her arm, won't give consent.
Howling like a deranged wolf, she refuses to speak. Won't fill out any of the forms we try
to give her. Is she addicted to suffering? Easily triggered, she's afraid of withdrawing.
Frightened of shadows looming against crack-stained walls, like creepy spiders stuck in
syrup. Her disgruntled mind, weary without sleep, turns inward and wreaks havoc against
itself.
some admissions babbling for scripts are seeking release like babes needing milk. Others,
like Molly in bed number twelve, with track marks on her arm, won't give consent.
Howling like a deranged wolf, she refuses to speak. Won't fill out any of the forms we try
to give her. Is she addicted to suffering? Easily triggered, she's afraid of withdrawing.
Frightened of shadows looming against crack-stained walls, like creepy spiders stuck in
syrup. Her disgruntled mind, weary without sleep, turns inward and wreaks havoc against
itself.
About the writer
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Tammy Smith is a single mother who writes at the crack of dawn before she wakes her son up for school. She lives and works in New Jersey as a social worker, drawing inspiration from her work in mental health. Her poetry and prose have been published in The Esthetic Apostle and Ailment: Chronicles of Illness Narratives.
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