Wednesday, April 17, 2013


I haven't written a poem in a while.


Earlier in life he
was always afraid of
unseen forces that wished him great harm

These formed the basis
of numerous sermons
given in the comfort of the holy living room
against the backdrop of the television

Now with the dementia
everyone, it seems, wants to
cheat, swindle, and manipulate him

He sees conspiracies everywhere

This is especially evident
during breakfast where he
shakes salt onto his eggs

Forgets immediately that he’s done it
adds more and then curses

The cook (my mother) who
has deliberately and maliciously
ruined his meal.

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