In the latter stages of her dementia,
My mother, in a moment of clarity
In the home calmly recounted a “trip,”
As she called it, within her mind: Christmas,
We’re gathered at the table, wine is passed,
Turkey is tender and carved, bowls of mashed yams
And stuffing, candles, sweaters, smiles, warmth…and
It’s so gloriously serene and “right,”
She said, “it was disgusting.” She shared this
With me before the last regimen
Of meds took her even further away.
“At this dinner,” she said “the laughter grew
And our voices raised the joy only families
Are able to raise, never duplicate
Elsewhere….” Then, she stopped, grabbed my hand, held it
For fifteen, twenty, thirty minutes.
Maybe an hour, I don’t remember.
All I can feel now is her hand in mine.
Think of that. How long have you held the hand
Of the person you love and hate the most,
The irreplaceable one? If you
Claim it to have lasted more than twenty
Minutes, no one will believe you. I don’t
Expect you to believe me. But, listen
To my mother’s story. Take her pain
And make it your own, like an undertaker
Beautifies a body. Now, join my mother
And me in the home. Watch her hold my hand.
Listen to her tell me she was fighting
That Christmas with a violence no one could
Comprehend. Listen to her say she knew
She’d eventually lose, to what, she never
Said. Listen: “not a doubt about that one.”
Listen: “I need to feel that warmth I made
That Christmas before my mind removes me
From it.” Watch her take her hand from mine.
Or has her hand been taken from her?
Which is the right voice? Her hands fold
In a fierce gesture of prayer, then loosen.
She’s turning to me, calling my name.
She’s opening a poem for me again.
 
 
Alexander Long has published four chapbooks, most recently The Widening Spell (Q Avenue Press, 2016) & Lunch with Larry (Q Avenue Press, 2014). Long has also published three full collections of poems, most recently Still Life (White Pine Press, 2011). His essays examining the poetry of Larry Levis, among other things, can be found at The Offending Adam, Smartish Pace, & Valparaiso Poetry Review, all of which are available online.