Analysis Daisy Bassen She wonders how hard it will be To get the couch to her third floor office In the old psychiatric hospital. It was built when the only treatment Was beauty, long windows disciplined with mullions, The river curving around the acres. Oaks carefully placed to dapple light, Spangle the sky that reaches all the way to earth. She will sit behind the couch’s mohair shrug And make sure she can see the clouds, Strata or veil, the atmosphere’s underbelly, And the branches, buttresses. Up the narrow staircase, there are no questions.
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