Friday, May 7, 2010

Okay, this poem


I could explain some things I have learned since writing it, but I choose not to.


Alzheimer’s


which makes Dale not

always Dale

because he has it

tangles develop deep in the brain

and my sister, his wife,

some strange person

he wants to push out of his house

someone he accuses of crimes

against him, but she did not steal

what he has lost.

She can take him to

last year’s photo,

the two of them together,

and he will know

who’s in the picture, and it looks

just like her

plaques form

but when he turns

and looks right in her face

she’s not the one in the photo

not his wife

and he might ask

as he does most nights

where are you

going to sleep?


He can’t help it--

everyone knows that--

neurons work less efficiently

and should not be blamed

but it’s hard to remember

when he’s in the middle of

being lost

and something or everything

is her fault somehow

and she does not belong

with him, where she has lived

more than fifty years.

Hard to remember, hard

to hope, hard to forgive.


Then, in a moment

or an hour

there is no treatment to cure

or more

she is someone he knows

his wife again delay or stop

and he says nice things

no more pushing, no

accusations, only smiles

the disease

he calls her by her name

and he is Dale again

and she thinks

maybe this time for good.


Carol Schiess

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