MUSED
BellaOnline Literary Review
Creater Lake by Al Rollins

Poetry


A Little PTSD

Robert Spiegel

The clouds seemed real at first, like
Mari hitting Connie on the run. Connie
going the way a flower starts, green.

The bloom swelled white then darkened.
Turn and fight back: Its only autism
it explodes into every color, much

like cotton candy, full and devastating.
Shes sweet when shes not hitting Connie.
The insect loves the flower. You can pull

up a chair and watch the blue sinking into itself.
Just children being children, a little PTSD.
We live in the garden with miracles every minute.

Autism is a layer of life on top of life. Funny,
really, like the Three Stooges running home.

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Summer Solstice 2011 Table of Contents