Megan Webster


He hit the sack at two 
now he's up at four 
belting rock in the shower.
Neighbors punch the wall.  
What the hell, I mutter as I screw 
my eyes open, scratch 
a mental note of events:

    starts new job on Monday
    gets fired on Friday
    turns up in mint Honda on Saturday
    borrows $20 for gas
The rock moves to the kitchen,
plates & pans clatter in the sink.
I shuffle toward the din.
What's up? I croak

What's up, he fires, his eyes weaseling
is I'm out of here, hitting the road
and he jerks his head 
to the humped backpack in the hall
heading west to California 
But, I start . . .

plenty of work out there   I'll get a job   rent a villa in Malibu   
buy a yacht  explore the Pacific
But, I shout . . .

check out Hawaii   Australia   Bora Bora
I check his medication.  

Your lithium, I yell
as he bounces toward the door.
Lithium, he barks, was screwing up my head
I flushed that shit a week ago 
and you better quit saying I'm bipolar
that's only a label you 
and that crazy doctor stuck on me
And he slams the door.

* * * 
		I am now flooded with despair, almost
		hysteria, as if I were smothering. As if a
		great muscular owl were sitting on my chest,
		its talons clenching and constricting my
					-- Sylvia Plath		

I Want to Jump

of my skin, he cries 
as he stomps around the house 
   taut as the lip 
               of a newborn moon. 

We flash frowns across the table
stretch our minds 
            for replies 

turn to Newsweek's article
on pharmaceutical wonders. 

     I want to jump 
          of my skin, he screams. 

Only snakes jump out of their skins 

     his small daughter blurts 
     from a mouth full of pizza. 

Crossing in the hallway
I pat his back
      remind him of tomorrow's appointment 
      beg him to hang in -

But in the down comfort of my bed 
his riff plays like 
     Kubek's blues guitar
     holding my sleep hostage					
                     on a frozen horizon.  

I want to burrow
     his dermis
	          like a scabies queen -

slay the monster
      squeezing him 
of his skin.

Megan Webster teaches poetry at San Diego Writers, Ink and also does freelance editing. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in numerous publications including Sunshine / Noir, ONTHEBUS, The Connecticut Review and Poiesis. Bipolar Express was awarded the 2004 San Diego BookAward for Best Unpublished Poetry Chapbook. Megan can be reached at