You found in me a good Jewish girl.
Your barely-there voice was hoarse, like
my cat who spoke too much.
Such a tiny thing you were with your
white pixie hair.

3:30pm became our chat time and so you told me
of your two husbands, your sister-mother
as we sat on your bed, dining on crackers and
strawberry-banana-kiwi juice

and on the day I came to work frazzled,
anxious and sad,
you mentioned that I made life here
bearable
and I burst into tears.

You took hold of my hands and said,
Don’t ever let anyone bring you down
and I looked at you and though
you knew nothing about what
was then wrong in my life,
I thought, “grandmother”

and you thought “friend” and I’m relying on your bad
memory to forget that I crossed the boundary
and cried,
my head buried in your lap.

11/16/2005

Author's Note: poem 3 from when I worked at an assisted living center with Alzheimer residents.

Posted on 11/17/2005
Copyright © 2024 Lisa Marie Brodsky