OCD Poetry

That Could Have Been Someone Singing by Jane Marston

Transformative, the mirror shows  
a me I hardly recognize—an evil twin, 
a raging doppelgänger. She-devil’s eyes 
glow like fired glass. What’s got me so 
unstrung? Boom box? Or car door 
slammed against the silence 
that’s my one 
safe space? I run inside; 
but the cave still echoes with a world I must
find my way back to, call and response 
      spiraling through time 
and urging me to follow. It might have been
a dark conspiracy that set these walls 
to ringing. Or I might have missed 
a pleasant strain. It might 
have been someone singing.

Jane Marston lives in Athens, Georgia, where she has spent many months learning to live with Misophonia, an OCD spectrum disorder marked by a dysfunctional response to certain sounds. In prior years, she has published poetry in journals including Southern Humanities Review, Birmingham Poetry Review, Blood & Fire Review, and Crucible.