"Last Words" [by Mary Jo Salter]

LAST WORDS

by Mary Jo Salter

Forgive me for not writing sober,
I mean sooner, but I almost don’t
dare see what I write, I keep mating mistakes,
I mean making, and I’m wandering
if I’ve inherited what
my father’s got.

I first understood it when he tried
to introduce me to somebunny:
“This is my doctor,” he said,
then didn’t say more, “my daughter.”
The man kindly nodded
out the door.
I thought: is this dimension
what I’m headed for?

I mean dementia.|
Not Autheimer’s, but that kind he has,
possessive aphasia: oh that’s good,
I meant to say progressive.
Talk about euthanasia!
I mean euphemasia,
nice words inside your head not there,
and it’s not progress at all.

No, he’s up against the boil
after years now of a sad, slow wall
and he’s so hungry,
I mean angry.

Me too. I need to get my rhymes in
while I still mean.  I mean can.

from Zoom Rooms by Mary Jo Salter ( Knopf, 2022).

Comments

[mitch sisskind]

Brilliant and powerful.

[Sylva Portoian, MD]

Hi Mary,
I enjoyed your Poem “Last words”
Using many unusual words
The English Language lacks poetic Words
Congrats

[Fred Dodsworth]

I love the ambivalence (I mean ambiguity) of this peace, (LOL) the weight it carries from one meanness to another lifting words to more than their meaning. Thank you.

[Josephine Cannella]

This pome hits close to bone, you mean home, don't you?
(That's my only homage line for it.)
I admire this poem for both the whimsy and the heartbreak. Thank you for it.