Poetry and Dementia

crackle
sun
flare
yellow eyes
syrup on my
tongue
like sticky honey
from the comb
hanging on a
star in the
moonless sky
where have you
gone?  betrayal
of my memory
lost in fog
of midnight where
sense and story
dance, intertwined
in each other’s
solitude
the mind, a weak
and fallible bowl
of
cells
sparks that fire
and don’t
my broken soul
confused to the
bitter end of
knowing and not
and maybe, but
who are you and
why am I here?
I must check the
mail for her letter
dream in the day
sunflare on a photo
with rosemary in
her hair and sad
smile in her eyes
not vacant eyes I
see in time that
moved out of order
my sweet, sweet
loved one
don’t forget me
remember the day
I was your favorite
favorite, a secret
between sisters
across generations
where that fractured
memory can unite us
laughter and oddities
raccoons in the can
socks in the dryer
curlers in our hair
and paint on skin
let’s meet in that
space which can
never be stolen

 

—–*****—–

 

 

I sat down at the typewriter to release this stream-of-consciousness while recalling conversations with my grandmother who is entering the early stages of dementia. I tried to keep the original format, making only slight alterations here, but I love the physical piece for its typos and off-kilter text which reminds me that even a healthy mind can falter.