Friday nights, his mother
brings a priest to our room
to pray for his disordered soul,
citing scripture
that had long failed her,
the eloquent rhythm
of his medieval voice
soothes my roommate,
and for this time together,
he stops mewling—
dare I tell them that
the patient in the next room
evokes the same response
by rapping his head
against our wall
Jim Solomone's poem in this issue of Innisfree is from his unpublished collection titled All this Living. He has also written comedic fiction, one unpublished novel, Gunning's Yaw, and numerous short stories.
