Now you can’t find your sentences.
Are they hidden in the ice box
where once we looked for treasures:
your keys, remote, glasses, watch?
Are they hidden in the ice box
forgotten on the office desk like
your keys, remote, glasses, watch?
Will we ever finish unearthing things
forgotten on the office desk like
that legal pad, the novel you began?
Will we ever finish unearthing things—
syllables strewn, verbs tossed?
That legal pad, the novel you began
slipping into Alzheimer’s grip—
syllables strewn, verbs tossed
just ghost notes, punctuated loss.
Slipping into Alzheimer’s grip
now you can’t find your sentences—
just ghost notes, punctuated loss
where once we looked for treasures.
