"After Her Diagnosis" and "Dementia and PTSD"

by Martha Ellen

After Her Diagnosis

Sis called. 11:00 pm.
She needed a pen. 
I dream of a cougar
sleeping next to me. 
Don’t move a muscle.
Slowly I covered my 
jugular with my hand.
The least I could do.

 

 

Dementia and PTSD

“You see that limbless man lying there, right?” Alma sits next to him. “Haven’t seen you in a long time.” She smiles then slips between the cushions. A two-headed dog growls.

First, I drive by his place to make sure his car is parked outside. If I know where he is he won’t hurt me. Won’t try to kill me like before.

He grasps the handles of his walker, stumbling from room to room, mewling: “Raskolikov was not all bad.”

Back home in the upstairs closet I crouch beneath the clothes diminished into an insignificant ghost. He may not find me.

Add comment

Martha Ellen

Martha Ellen lives alone in an old Victorian house on a hill on the Oregon coast. Retired social worker. MFA. Poems and prose published in various journals and online forums including RAIN, North Coast Squid, and many others. She writes to process the events of her wild life. She values the local charities that are often overlooked, such as her local Astoria Oregon Senior Center, which offers a warm welcoming place to socialize and healthy activities. Martha recommends donating to them or your local Senior Center.