Girl by featured artist Lora Mathis


      A Grim Fairy Tale

      I pulled a chicken leg from behind the moon, unearthed
      three appliquéd bears on my blue gingham dress,
      and mother smoking Tareyton’s in the bathroom, pink curlers,
      a bobby pin between her teeth, a bobby pin in the outlet.
      Barbequed chicken. Moon, close my eyes.

      Here’s the church, here’s the steeple, open the doors—
      Rotisserrie fingers. Flesh pepper. Charred prayers.
      Mother said, Come on, baby, put your hands in the water.
      She wouldn’t hold me until I touched the quacking duck.
      Baby bear died in the fire. Moon, close his eyes.

      You’ll never know dear, how much I love you—
      The lipsticked hen shoved me off the couch. Broken egg.
      Fried me in her skillet every Saturday night. Be a good girl.
      That’s when he unlocked my door and Moon closed her eyes.


      Human Flotsam

      Barbara was a nurse. No one knows where.
      Her caregivers don’t care. It’s what she was.
      Before—

      the brown slacks, to hide the stains,
      not the smell. Oh, my. I didn’t know
      we had a baby here. Do you think it’s mine?

      It’s yours. John used to be an engineer.
      Electrical. Doesn’t matter. Won’t say, anyway.
      It’s what he was. Before—

      the sundown screaming, wandering,
      punching sheets. Give me my car keys. I need
      to get away from all these goddamn old people.

      Go to the office! Stanley was a history teacher.
      Maybe grade school, before all the swearing.
      Who cares? It’s what he was. Before—

      his wife died, over and over again. And his son
      said the memory care center was a hotel. A vacation.
      Where is she? Someone just tell me! Please!

      She’s dead. A stroke. Pauline used to be a dancer.
      But those Rockefeller lights, and the taste of bubbly.
      And the priest. Now he was a handsome devil.

      Human flotsam erased in bites. Four Formers
      in a former life, spoon-fed applesauce,
      and Seroquel, mollified, pushed aside.

      If only the forgotten would visit.

 



Molly Middleton Meyer

Molly Middleton Meyer is the founder of Mind’s Eye Poetry. She works with dementia patients using a facilitation process that includes the use of sensory props, poetry recitation, and memory triggering questions. Through the facilitation process, Middleton Meyer is able to write on-the-spot-poems with her poet/patients. She helps those with Alzheimer’s not only re-capture memories, but also provides an outlet for creative expression. Middleton Meyer lives in Dallas, where she regularly conducts public education classes, acting as an advocate for those living with dementia-related illness. She is an active member of the Alzheimer’s Association of Greater Dallas, where she serves on the Board of Directors, and as co-chair of the Marketing and Communications Committee. Her business is highlighted in the July/August issue of The Senior Voice. Her poetry has been featured in Disorder: Mental Illness and its Affects (Red Dashboard Press), The Merrimack Review, The Rainbow Journal, Mindset Poetry, HerKind, and in the upcoming issue of Postcard Poems and Prose. Middleton Meyer received her MFA in Creative Writing from Lesley University in June of 2014.