Modern Magdalene; Alzheimers In March

Modern Magdalene

She feels like commandments
That I want to break;
Tender torture, her love’s like a rope
I grapple onto, touch
A harness I like strapping into
Skin so supple, pores could be
Made of oceans of lotions,
Coconut & cucumber
I bite into the chocolate of her
Shoulder and taste desire here
The warmth between her thighs is a
Cherished cove; whispers in night
Are forbidden love letters
She makes lust feel like home

Alzheimer’s in March

I’ve heard the adage: “You don’t know what you’ve had
Until it’s gone” and the saying “You knew
What you had,
You just never thought you’d lose it”
Well here’s my opinion: I knew what I had
And I knew that I’d lose it,
I just never knew that losing her
Would be losing a part of me
Didn’t realize happiness could be
Erased in the snap of cold fingers,
Heart frozen by an ice wand

When you died, you took a piece of me
And I still haven’t forgiven you for that.
It’s been three years that I’ve carried this guilt
Like a precious bundle
Three years I store it someplace
Dust won’t settle
Three years I’ve waited without an exhale
For a whispered apology

I’ve planned a meeting
To speak with your ghost, Grandma
But she always forgets the date
Leaving me in diners ‘til the coffee’s grown cold
And I remain idle
Searching for miracles through the ether
And broken semblances of a brittle past

And I see your spirit walk by,
Grandma, but she probably
Doesn’t recognize me
Calloused by the whiplash of
Ginsued virtues – your teachings
Are now foreign to me
And do you recognize me?
Just taller, and more stubborn, bit of
An attitude? Can you see me, Grandma?
Do you still know me?

Or do the blemishes upon my face
Mask who I used to be
Does my height make you forget
The girl who used to trudge
Around in your wedding dress
Her shortness leaving path of satin
Trailing behind her?
Is my aura dimmer, Grandma?
Do I no longer shine bright, like
Orion? But instead need to enlist
The aid of Sun for luminosity
Do you see me or what I’ve become?

Death became you:
Ashes to dust to tears to trust to
Trampled dreams to fighting to urges
To curse to a bloodlust so
Insatiable because…well…
Every time I played the choking game,
It left me like your presence,
Your unmistakable “now:” breathless.

Weightless.
Anything to float a little
Closer to heaven and
Scream at God for taking my Savior away
Urging me to continue to count
One less Hail Mary
And lose several Amens.

Every scab on my wrist
Represents each time I
Considered going on a visit to see you
Each trip to my psychiatrist
Represents every time I failed

‘You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy – when skies are gray’
I prayed it would rain so I’d see the Sun again
But it burned out a while ago
And the clouds mimic my focus, hazy
And mock the fog within my mind

It’s been three years since my Grandma
Went to Rest In Paradise
And she still hasn’t sent me a postcard
But I’ll still be waiting;
I’m still, I’m waiting

Nykemah Warren, Age 16, Grade 11, The High School of Fashion Industries, Gold Key

This entry was written by NYC Scholastic Awards and published on October 21, 2013 at 12:00 pm. It’s filed under Poetry, Writing. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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