That night in a motel
In Prince George, BC.
March 1985
My son had taken too much
Medication for his
Schizophrenia
He lay on the bed
His hands clasped tightly
In prayer
Attempting to sort
Whatever was going on
Inside his addled
Brain
His little sister was
Frustrated
The movie she wanted to see
Would soon start
My son peered at us with eyes
That had rolled over
In their sockets..
A side effect from
The medication
They gleamed
Whitely, with tiny red
Veins
Like cracked hard boiled
Eggs
He stared at me
With his sightless
Eyes
“Are you a ghost? he queried
His little sister
Gasped in horror