I am made for Alzheimer’s
practicing forgetting since I was a child.
A pink thread of mist frays into light,
the sky sun ached blue-white
full of calories and miscellaneous detail
and then a great shiver of katydids
blows across a wind at the edge of the yard.
I have to explain everything in color,
the mood swings and the warmth of scars,
a strain above the eyes, a roll of breath
across a shape of lips I am not allowed
to wander across. This is the way to dementia,
the play of remembering
what needs to be forgotten,
what needs to never be remembered,
what needs to settle into the swamplands
near the lake gathering the love chatter
of tree toads and large mouthed frogs,
letting everything else dissolve
Into frames of a black and white
Humphrey Bogart right before
he walks out on Katherine Hepburn.
Michael H. Brownstein -has nine poetry chapbooks including A Period of Trees (Snark Press, 2004), Firestorm: A Rendering of Torah (Camel Saloon Press, 2012), and The Possibility of Sky and Hell (White Knuckle Press, 2013).
The Beautiful Space-