A Waiting Lament
I haven’t slept in days To stay accessible. Agreeable. Dressed in normal clothes. Ready to answer the door. Unlock things as needed. Cooperate. Not conjuring Hecate and Dionysus In a circle of crystals and cards. Or in a medicated sleep of death For twenty hours. Or exorcist crab-walking Drenched in coconut oil To touch each door of the house With my bare foot. I am not a real person with real problems. I am an emaciated glamour phantasm. Reclusive enough to be imaginary. With hair the color of the moon. I live scarcely tolerated At the fringes of society. I don’t matter. I am hardly even real. I am hardly even alive. Andrea Lambert is a queer writer, artist and filmmaker with Schizoaffective Disorder. She lives in Nevada with her four cats. Site: andreaklambert.com Border Crossing by Andrea Lambert Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Andrea Lambert
Fevers of the Mind 
“Not conjuring Hecate and Dionysus
In a circle of crystals and cards.
Or in a medicated sleep
of death”
Powerful.
Thank you.
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