The De-evolution of Normal

I need loyalty

everything staying in its place

trust and respect

for faithfulness is woefully underrated

However, certain of my possessions have squandered this pact

choosing greener pastures

apparently discontented and now truant

Why don’t they remain in their place?

Then, they return

but by then I may not recall their absence

as my neurons shrink and synapses misfire

however, all is again momentarily well

until the inevitable next time

or worse

My future? This brain of mine disappearing my loved ones

Of course, how will I know?

In Search of the Good Old Days

Vicious suffering was the fate of both my grandmothers
one, tormented by a metaphorical myriad of stabbing hot pokers
concluded her unholy hell
by swallowing the contents of a bottle of lye
surely an anguished choice but one determined better than living as is
did she feel even a moment of peace in her fading consciousness?
unlikely
still I need to think so.

My other grandmother died of breast cancer in pre-hospice days
when patients weren’t informed of their killer
a haunting iteration of don’t ask, don’t tell
ignorance condoned as bliss
chosen by those in charge of preaching suffering as natural law
the alpha and omega of ‘do harm.’

— inspired by a poetry writing class prompt about grandmothers