We will probably die before my parents

A high fall

haplessly losing our footing

distracted by something wonderful

We’ll smile back kind

but apologetic

through over-filtered photographs

defragmenting

bit

by bit

by bit

into dementia

Relatives too difficult to visit

skin like old paper with

fading letters

to all of you

hesitating hearts

too tentative to confront

these patients

as they speak in the wrong tense

Living fragments

of what happened

caught and captured

and woven into a tapestry of

Dancing calamities

casualties of the evening

collapsing happily on

grass

roots

moss and

mountains

knotted flesh fucks

with a passion that splits rock

sun-soft and snow-topped

we drop in to

and float

down the unknown

As we are only moments now

not a person