Elizabeth Zelvin
Musical Hallucinations
four years later, I can name my neurological disorder
it’s even got a nickname, MH
the medical establishment still thinks it’s rare
because we trickle in ones and twos into the offices
of neurologists and shrinks and ear docs
not enough cases to base a study on
no common cause, and none of them can fix it
the Maestro has laid down his baton
no more world class choir and orchestra
only scales, arpeggios, and taunting phrases
a single violin or cello, a women’s chorus vocalizing
all too quietly to be impressive
the baritones and bassos I call the Volga Boatmen
half a stanza at a time
a distant bagpipe or the hum of bees
or worse, the whine of flies
my neurologist and I try everything
antipsychotics, dementia drugs
meds that give me violent dreams during which
I leap out of bed or attack my husband in my sleep
so we try nothing, and it works no worse
I still can’t stop the music