Potent Medicine


 

Still atop the TV cabinet

his watch alarm goes off

every morning at nine

informing us,

Mom and me,

that it is past the time

to let go.

The alarm

is less shrill now

than when I first arrived.

It urges me to forget my anger, grief, dismay

the last years

of his decline

were after all, not mine to relive

but hers, theirs.

Alas, I am still out of the loop.

I am also fully aware of the fact

that I could not be here

if he still were. In fact

most of the time,

I don’t feel sad at all. Like the timepiece, I just need an adjustment.

It makes me think of  sand being ripped from the shore

surf crashing against the rocks

oysters without pearls

It reminds me finally

to swallow my medicine, embrace the black corners

and to misplace the watch outside

in his overfilled garage next to the empty bottle of beer.

©10/11/13 Cornelia DeDona

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