The Sewing Box from
Medfield State Hospital
Tortured and shamed. Criminally insane.
Built the frame for the sewing box reclaimed.
Through the dark, his body arched.
In order to carve his etched art.
What was the crime? Was he ever cured fine?
Either way, the box is mine.
It sits me with me, as I sew happily.
He is here too. Does he haunt you?
Hands outstretched upon my heart and chest.
He grabs ahold of my depressed stress.
He helps me heal, I know the deal.
I can’t stop sewing, in order to feel.