Dementia
by Robert K. Johnson
No longer do you for a minute
or a few minutes become a bird
that quietly lifts off,
circles somewhere in blue space,
then turns back into your old self
and rejoins the conversation.
Now, brute arms grip you tight,
take you and leave you
in an oarless boat that drifts
far out on the silent sea
until, reaching a horizon
thick with fog, you disappear.
Copyright © 2018 by Robert K. Johnson.
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