House's Last Patient
she's got a hepburn lisp, and a julia smile, sarah's wit, and katherine's style, she's tori (in her head), but madonna walking down the aisle;
she's in with prince for a ton, drinks italian wine, she's fluent in pain, but hides it just fine, she knows art worth a mint, and wed frazetta (once, in her mind);
- -
princeton-plainsboro calls her name, she's in love with a house of cards, and celluloid fame;
her past dripping icicles, always running away, with poisoned, rigid dollies, (in her mind each day);
from eight to eleven, priests whispered: "it's for heaven", tea-time at four,
wafers as an encore (blessed with residue), consecrated by the monsignor;
--
"beautiful glass, you're cracked," (House snaps), "how can you be put together, when you try to fly?"
"you're my last patient and i'm not on call," (House snorts), "i'm not here at all, so, why do you think i care, in your mind, about your need for repair?"
but she knows. House can save her, at princeton-plainsboro, there's safety in sibelius' forest of conifer;
--
she's got a girlfriend too, for an extra wheel, she only carries cash, but will readily steal, she's taken lots of meds, or did they run away with her?
sundays betrayed her, fuseli's nightmare zoo, seeking sex to save her, priests were there too, (golden gate conifers) in her memory's goo;
---
american psychos in florence, in milan, in rome, are burning (in her mind) memory's puddles, burning home;
princeton-plainsboro, such a peaceful place, where the sun yawns softly,
among ivy and health and stubble -no mace;
"I believe in you, I believe," (she says), "sunday is black, but doctor House,
show me the map and the way back";
at princeton-plainsboro bedpans smell sour before the cock crows.
