On Bad Mental Health Days

by Rita Maria Martinez

I worried about Jill from QVC who sold

holiday finials, certain on air she’d succumb

to a spiky peak rending ligament

and cartilage from her dainty hand.

When Jill retired, I was relieved. Spiky

objects scare me. On bad mental health days

I sometimes recall a scene from a Charles Bronson

movie: a terrified nude woman jumps

through a third-story window and is impaled

by a spiky fence. On the worst mental health days

I am that woman. My bare body shatters glass.

Pedestrians stop and stare. There I am. Lanced

torso. Public effigy. Shortly, everyone turns away, resumes

watering begonias, walking little white dogs as if

my bloody carcass isn’t part of the landscape.

Newcomers enquire about me from locals who shrug

and say—That’s just fulana de tal, what’s-her-name—

because why fuss. After weekly allergist visits,

I drive past gated McMansions, observe different fences,

know which can never reside on my property.

I fear the lure of cold iron against my skin.

Even now I hear its siren call.…

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Rita Maria Martinez is the daughter of Cuban immigrants. Rita’s poetry raises awareness about triumphs and challenges when navigating chronic migraine. Her Jane Eyre-inspired collection—The Jane and Bertha in Me (Kelsay Books)—was a finalist for the Andrés Montoya Poetry Prize. Rita’s work appears in The Best American Poetry Blog, Ploughshares, Pleiades, Tupelo Quarterly, SWWIM Every Day, West Trestle Review, Whale Road Review, Knee Brace Press, and in CLMP’s 2023 Disability Pride Reading List.