Alzheimer’s

Trickster:

twin bladed

sifter of moments.

You cut and paste and superimpose,

you change and filter;

filling in gaps

or removing with surgical precision.

Hurt and harm are sent offstage

or super-trouper high lit

in the theatre of remembrance.

Was, and ought-to-be,

mingle

(with half empty glasses)

in this elbow jostling party

this crowd of witnesses

and fabricated alibi.

The touch of her or him, or this or that,

conjured by a passing scent

or half glanced fleeting sight,

spurs a smile

or panged regret.

Trickster:

double-edged

filter of fact.

Robber, villain, rearranger;

you make children of parents

and parents from children

in careless abandonment.

The storm of imagination,

in thunderous cacophony,

sieves and mixes, distils and compounds,

implodes, explodes, shouts, screams

or whispers

what might have been

or nearly was,

once upon a time.

Trickster, usurper:

your fallen veil steals reality

as your pretendered sovereignty

claims the crown

and life becomes

once

upon a time.

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Still born twin

Evening comes.

The cremating sun hides in

tangerine dreams of

mourning  clouds,

that you’ve never seen.

The air is crisp with the skipping of

tantalising breezes

that you’ve never tasted.

I would have shared these things

with you

had you not been swept away

before your first glimpse,

and breath touched life into you.