Filling in the Blanks

are plowed under she scribbles in the space labeled diagnosis. Age at onset? Duration? Longer than late afternoon shadows. Symptoms? Days like flat pebbles. At night once, a dream where the horizon turned into a circle of bedsheets knotted together. Treatments? Current medications? Another dream: one by one tearing the sheets into small white pieces that scatter like wild fringed orchid petals over the summerfallow ground.