Si Philbrook

In Memory of Me

Light the ovens,
Burn to ash
The race that would deny me,
Do this in memory of me
Defend the oil,
Boil alive the pagans
On the road from Al Jahra,
Do this in memory of me
Reign Supreme,
Prepare the beams from which to hang
Your strange fruit,
Do this in memory of me
Suffer the children,
Teach the beatings into them
Our little secret,
Do this in memory of me
Worship me
I don't care how you live
Or what you give, just make it dollars,
Do this in memory of me.

Si Philbrook © 2009

a different beauty

i've seen naked
cynthia
fifty-two with a catheta fitted,
three years of alzheimers
stole the sparkle
that comes with "downs",

cynthia -
i changed her pad
wiped away the shit
others chose not to smell
near the end of their shift,

cynthia
bed baths and hoists,
dignity
isn't measured on a tick list of pad changes,
but in the eyes
and in the days
when
naked moments
passed between us -

giving her a drink
in a sippy cup,
her lips, old and cracked,

life is brittle
and hurts,

she just left me
no words
no fuss,

she wasn't family
but important;
fragile.

cynthia

Si Philbrook © 2009