by Robyn Joy
When the beast pulls me back in
wraps a blanket around my shoulders
and whispers stay here
it feels almost comfortable
in the most uncomfortable way
like I never left
never had a string
of normal good days
like pearls shiny and smooth
in my fingers
but there is also the chatter
the nonstop dialogue
a laundry list of all the things
undone, including laundry,
so I flit about
doing all the things
a snap if there is a question
because it disturbs the balance
it’s like a pirate ship in here
I don’t always steer out of the wave
the hunger for comfort
it’s constant
I rarely find it
or maybe I do
and I have just forgotten that today
the beast is like that
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Robyn Joy has been published in two Writers for Recovery anthologies, The Hippocrates Initiative’s 2020 anthology, Sixfold.org’s Winter 2020 issue, and as a West Trade Review Online Exclusive. She lives in central Vermont with her husband and precocious cat, where she can be found making visual art, experimenting in the kitchen, dissecting her dreams and thoughts, communing with animals, and practicing yin yoga.