On the Seawalla community gallery of new writing, art and commentary hosted by Ron Slate

Now Calls Me Daughter

 

Calls me in the middle of the night
to say voices are watching her sleep.
She’s looking for her shoes, says she’s
read about the disaster. I bring her closer,
nearer the sun’s blaze & vanishing.
Life, she says, it’s good. Now
sits habitually in a blue chair, and
a hummingbird siphons the sugar.

She sweeps the floors, wants to leave
her trail clean. Now she sews a button
on my jeans, dices ripe tomatoes
for the sauce I’m simmering with Merlot.

She sings, in French, a song I don’t know.
Something about a warm embrace.

 

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

 

To the Larger Pile Decaying

 

Now aims her life to be all-purposeful, like flour, like a cleaning agent, like the perfect black dress she said I should wear to the interview and, also, her funeral. She handwashes her gold-toed socks, mops, then paces the hardwood floors. Looks in the pantry, makes muffins from a box. The flour bag opened but unused, collects dust. Unaware of the forgotten, burnt edges mean she’s watching the woodpecker make its house. Now says I love to see the birds. There’s still plenty to do. She wipes the counters, dries the dishes. Leftover crumbs land on the hedges. She rakes more piles. I throw them over the fence.

.

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

 

Now in Autumn: Sonnet I

 

Each day she rakes each leaf that falls.
With her favorite flowered gloves
and little shrub rake, she clears them all.
Now expects me to come

by half past nine. She’s at the door
wearing her berry fleece, though
she forgets what she’s waiting for.
And the crepe myrtle leaves

keep mingling with the mulch and slate.
Now resumes her ritual.
She doesn’t notice that I’m late;
she’s talking to a squirrel.

From my car, I see Now, and hear
her, bent low, softly say, ma chère.

 

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

A note on the work from Christine Jones: “The collection I’m working on is titled Maintenant — “now” in French. This series of poems is inspired by a video produced by the Alzheimer’s Family Support Center that underscores how people with Alzheimer’s can teach us about living in the now. I came up with the idea of “Now” as a persona for my mother thinking it’s one way I can write these poems from a distance, and not have just all “mother” poems which started to feel symptomatic. My mom never was one to make me laugh, but the progression of her Alzheimer’s disease has made her both unintentionally and intentionally funny, and we laugh now more than ever. My mom lives her life, even in her altered realities, with grace and gratitude. Through this experience as a caregiver, I’ve gained great respect for her and an even greater respect for all the life lessons she has taught and continues to teach me, now.”