Saturday, August 20, 2022

Poem for Beatriz Moisset at hospice at Sunrise

 In this new haze that came upon her

She mumbled to no one in particular
though shadows hovered in the background

Twas brillig and the slithy toves did gyr and
gimble in the wabe
Her Argentina was getting closer as she remembered
the Parana Delta and Rio de la Plata Basin

How she and her son and had watched Rick Steves
- such a name - travel guide with wide smile and
perfect teeth, an hombre apuesto

They laughed on days when energy infused her
Energy? What was that? Energia?
Her people, Ken, Barbara, Linda, Ruth, Allen, Rem and Martha,
appeared to fan her with wide palmettos with painful
prickers.

The television honked at her. "Keep your arms in the boat,
remove sunglasses, and look ahead."
The blue grotto. She felt her curly black hair
black as the night sky back in The Argentine
where she and Manny once rubbed noses, like
Esquimal

Coming, darling, she called.
Coming soon.
The waters swept her away
just another Helen Keller
gone in the deep.

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