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