Wednesday, August 8, 2018
Brain Rot(Alzheimer's)
She sits alone in her wheelchair
staring out the window
in her lonely conclave;
her dysfunction concealed beneath
a dispiriting impenetrable trance,
as she shares this small denizen
with her imaginary friends of endless prattle,
her rambling brays and dissociative fugue
amuse the scattering ghosts;
for her once calculative mind
could compute in an instant what now
is a tottering chore,
her encomium of memories float
upon a fogged pane of glass,
forever wiped from her conscience, now
she calls me Frank each visit that's
not even close to my baptismal name, but we
laugh together like it's an inside joke shared between
two old friends, and as I depart from this psych ward each day
I leave her to extricate her private soliloquies.
- John Hardesty
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Herding Cretan milk goats and chanting Greek verses to poly gods, writers ascribe to the pastoral hymns of sorrow where time’s the thief...
-
Avoid distress; forlorn hope, threadbare of loneliness, even Icarus’ boldness, jubilation, and carelessness bedeviled his own ego. Tak...
-
We always played cards in the back of Squire's Bar and Grill, a little hole in the wall place. I lost that night at cards a...
-
Sitting in a death chair at the Cleveland Cancer Center whilst my body is being pumped with platinum grade-A poison. The six hours of...
No comments:
Post a Comment