The letters and poems you wrote
Are lucid and anything
But evidence of madness.
If by madness
What we mean
Is a lack of meaning.
Your poems and your letters
Are your attempt at saying
What cannot be said
In language. To touch
The impossible
What lies beyond
The cut of language.
The wild foxes
Along the border
Of the clinic
No one else
Can see them.
Hungering, as they are,
At the edge of everything,
That is without meaning.
