Demoted and downgraded
to quarter of a patient.
Diluted and disremembered.
I wish I could go back.
grandma, the family storyteller
in old age would forget
so her stories changed with the retelling
but an essence of truth remained
her voice echoes in my heart
was each story semantic to grandma
new in ambiguity to her
with random memories merging
I am the storyteller now
looking into the calm reflective waters of time
seeking recollected memories that echo
my words specular with reflected words
I am that girl at the kitchen table
listening to her musical voice impacting me
I wonder did she realize her life ending
did she want to give me her gift
I often escape into her fugue of melodic telling
her unexpected memory with all the beautiful failures
that perhaps only I who wished to be like her
who knew her stories told over years would grasp
I stood before the pearly gates
Awaiting entrance in,
Unaware of impediments
To bar my entering,
Then they came back to haunt me,
My disremembered sins.
What a man you were
Your knuckle, hard as rock
Knocking on my seven year old skull
Flash anger that came from nowhere
Did I remind you of someone you hated?
I remember, buckets of years ago
Now you, with “old timer’s”
Those days forgotten
Now, my time to disappear
By tomorrow, you would have disremembered me
But I remember, I still carry the lump
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