Does she know your name?

'Does she know your name?'
people ask.
'does she know who you are?'
as if she is facial recognition software.

No.
No.
You don't understand.

When I stroke
Alzheimer's moaning,
when I croon and
feel her mottled paper skin:

her breathing eases; and
I hear her pausing.
I hear her pausing.

In January

It wasn't until January
that insight came.
Lunch melting, the table
umbilical cord to capitulation,
the salad a nightmare
of knives and screams
& bloody memories.

I've hidden inside sandwiches
too long.

Blue thin edge

It's come around around again
That year I made us
Three. How smug I was.
How free.
Now, I sit beside you
Thin and edges blue
My love like anguish
Loud and yelling
While we chatter.

Drunk on Ellis

For once I'll tell the truth:
Dubbo, drunk on beer,
I looked into the gum,
killed ants,
thought of Ellis.
Heard Malcolm lie.
Shorten tell a joke.
ABC Crackle.

It's like swimming in dirt, Bob.
Beneath your eloquent
regretful sky.

in vein

I've looked for lines

between there and here

and failed.

even my blood bears no resemblance.

I've broken so many rules

flakes cling to my skin til I'm blinded
(echo hours, dark and dark)

I've lived that fucking mess.
Tided up.

Artefactual. Oh yes. 

Yet: alight. It puzzles me.
Somehow, like living a synonym.

breathe in. hold.

breathe again.

: in vein.

frag.ment

for Arson de Bris

you shin.e
words.
word.s & you.you.tube
such beauty.
i eat pie
bumblehumble crumbs
re.calling_it's you
with he/art &
a world in need/heed
of such soaring

View

Today is memory.

Through window grime

to park: the wisteria tunnel

where once there was a rocket

and a roundabout

long since gone.

where once I pushed a stroller

with grandparents

long now dead.

On Sunday I walked there with you

once-were-Helen. Mother.

We sat on the second wooden bench

your eyes closed/skin an empty shell.

My eyes blinded.

A young girl runs past, we stir.

There's a Labor Party BBQ. Speeches I can't hear.

I think of David Hicks. Your protest.

I want to tell you: He's free now Mum. 

Vindicated. I know you'd be pleased.

Through window grime
to park, and the wisteria tunnel:
Yes, I see the landscape of my years,
and the view of yours forgotten.


Merilyn Childs, 21/1/2015
From my 30for30 series