HS: “Amy Studt is one of the most talented and sublime singers and songwriters. She has been on top of the pops, had a number one in America and has written probably the most beautiful, strange and intelligent records you will ever hear – when you get to hear it. Amy sang backing vocals on our new album ‘The Birthday Of The World’. She writes very personal narratives and snapshots. Here is one of her poems.”
Referrals and letters
Referrals and letters.
Doctors and their nurses,
Their rubbing hands,
My parents emptying purses.
“We want answers! We need answers!”
“Ah yes, well she’s a complicated case”
The battle over health and money continues.
It is night again.
Crippled, gut wrench cries into the black.
Stars humming their grim, dim light.
Are you mocking me, stars?
The searing pain, glass shard slicing.
My hearing is all and nothing.
Ivory fingers tap at it, chisel into me.
Some relief it brings, slowly.
Breathless, gasping morning awakenings,
Claws sinking into my belly.
The black dog is in my head,
Barking, frothing at the mouth.
Trembling hands of wax that I find, clasped together in prayer to Gods that do not answer.
I am a sick child with no mother’s arms.
Doctors scratch at flaky scalps,
Scribbling soon forgotten notes.
Locked away in metallic drawers, down corridors in someone’s dreaming mind.
Far away somewhere.
I see everything from a distance.
Hear everything as a razor blur.
Papers passed and pill mountains consumed with my breakfast tea.
Off to work again! “Just one sharp scratch” at a time.
Should be on the hallmark card for the phlebotomy ward.
I walk a little by the shore. Till the light begins to fade.
Drag tired bones to bed to a sleep that hopes for a peace that will go on forever.
In the stars. As my father always said.
Those sharp stars whose grim, dim light guides me further and closer each day.