Sunday, July 15, 2012

Alzheimers, Part One.

She wore white
shoulder to ankle
but canary yellow
from there on down

He wore blue
shoulder to ankle
but from there on up
stood a frown

Arriving on church bells
funerals, weddings, and Sundays
she wrote in the columns
of a hymnal
on a song living in between
two columns of ribs.

Fingers
intertwined like vines on branches
etched with warnings to the elbows
bending away from one
another

She was sinking
a hand reaching to the surface
knocked down by the ripple of a wave
she was brave
she was brave
she was brave

All that time went ticking
the water came up and down
up
down
rinsing her mind clean of memory

she looks at me from across a room
"Who are you?"

and her slippers are yellow, worn
her hospital is sterile, white
his scrubs are as blue as a deep, wide pool.
the slow beeping in the background
beep, beep, click.

Facing her child's child
she exhales across
a vast sea of memories
unable to pick her out from the rest.

1 comment:

  1. this hurts my heart. My grandma has dementia and has no idea who any of us are anymore, either.

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