And the spider of her unmemory. And how, every few mornings, she used to pick the bright weeds from the front yard. And how she kept the kitchen window open so she could shoo away the birds those weeks in June while apricots ripened on the tree. The ghost of her folds the laundry, puts away her shoes. The ghost of her mixes then rolls the dough. And how, before eating, she always said her mother had created apricot pie. The ghost of her unremembers that now, leaves the crust on the white plate.
This poem is one in a series written during a collaborative writing workshop at Vermont College of Fine Arts. I've struggled to articulate my experience with the different stages of my grandmother's Alzheimer's disease as I've feared objectifying the dearest person in my life. Through language, I wanted to rehumanize what had been & continues to be dehumanized as this disease progresses within a body. With the encouragement of my collaboration partner Scarlet Michaelson as well as the workshop facilitators & peers, my engagement with this subject continued after the summer 2015 residency. The culmination of this project, Re-, will be published by Red Bird Chapbooks later this fall.
Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
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