The Mmm of Her

This was previously published on my poetry column on Feminine Collective.

The Mmm of Her

I was convinced she was crazy
and I couldn’t stand the pitch of her voice
but for the way she would say, “Mmmm”
when I told her about the thoughts,
and how they pummelled me darkly.
I liked the Mmmm of her, the way
it brought out the whites of her eyes,
and I wondered as they closed
if they were watching her thoughts
as closely as they watched mine.
And I wished to poke at them,
her thoughts not her eyes,
although I would be lying if I said
I hadn’t thought about poking those too.
I always left feeling less of myself,
like I had left little bits of me with her
and I started to wonder what she did with them,
those pieces of me that lingered in her office.
Did she think of them as hers now?
A project she could shelve
until the mood struck right,
or a maybe a pet, a defiant dog
she coaxed with treats
and whipped into submission;
or perhaps I was a blossom,
force flowered and placed perfectly
in the corner of her office where
she could watch me wither,
in the spot that never sees the sun
just the bite of the cold air pumping
from her ac unit and the whites of her eyes.

© Nicole Lyons 2017

 

7 thoughts on “The Mmm of Her

  1. There’s a concept in the therapy business, “therapeutic distance”, and cautions against the therapist revealing too much of his/her self, or being too emotionally involved (“transference”). Thanks for a beautifully penned view from the other side.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. OH! That one. Yep. Probably the most important lesson my clients taught me (sure didn’t learn it in school), especially the Schiz crew (best BS radar on the planet), was that if you’re not going to show up with your whole self, they will know and, whether they let it be obvious or not, they slam the doors shut. As the song says, “Just be for real.”

        Liked by 1 person

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