Insurance

A Poem

Movement downstairs.

I seize on the floor, wrapped

in a blanket, naked underneath.

 

“I don’t want to be an object. Beatrice,

Beatrice, stop haunting me.”

 

Over and over and over, I

 

seize on the floor. Bright flash.

Their insurance: my disability.

This poem is from my self-published poetry Asylum Hysteria, and can be found in our shop and Apple Books.

  • Helena Ortiz's Facebook Page
  • Helena Ortiz's Twitter
  • Helena Ortiz's Pinterest
  • Helena Ortiz's Instagram

2020 Marmosetic Wolves

  • Helena Ortiz's Facebook Page
  • Helena Ortiz's Twitter
  • Helena Ortiz's Pinterest
  • Helena Ortiz's Instagram