Demon Demon

“Good news,” said the doctor, “it’s a demon.” I asked for its name: was it No One? Was it Superego? He said it wasn’t those but he couldn’t guess the name. “Who knows,” he said, “It mightn’t even be a demon. It’s what we call a ‘diagnosis by elimination.’” Explaining he couldn’t operate, the doctor said let’s go ahead and medicate the hell out of it, make it sleepy. I named him “Demon” after his identity. I put him to sleep twice a day, one short one long; three times a week he did sport; he grew to six foot two; I said he was good; I went to the door of his room and left food.

May 6, 2015 / Books & the Arts / Kathryn Maris