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
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