Here I find myself in grandpa’s new flat in Vancouver
Speaking in high English and making black Tea, He said
“It's always good to have company when I fear the world’s forgetting me”
The last time we made the trip, your wife saw naked apparitions on the roof
And fed the poodle chocolate and cheerios
Steaming like a chimney leaving
Smoke inside the bed linen,
But last year she had to leave
As her lost lover and world
Backtracked through the cavities in her fermented mind


For this, he sits in his arm chair by the home phone
Reading the newspaper with a seeing glass
Always waiting.
I like to think he doesn't dwell on the truth
But I can guess where he goes
When I hear old records play from his room

The day before, we visited Grandma Joyce in the ward
Where zombies wheeze and shuffle worn feet on the floor
She was displayed in her bed
In cold sterile light
Forgetting her blood and forgetting her sight

Her lips clacked open and squeaked,
“All these nice people came to see me
All these nice people came to see me
They stand in my room at night
And murmur like a chorus.
I think they want to **** me
And feast upon my dreams”
Lost, Lost and rambling, but
The guards confess that there are moments of clarity
Where she hurls her frame off the fence in twilight chanting “I need to go home”.

As the trip came to a close,
There was nothing we could do
Grandma has lost herself in the sepulcher or existence and
Her husband waiting for a resolve
He walked us to the lift and wailed like a baby to his child
“Just stay for me a bit longer, and make sure to come back.”
“We will be back soon.”
The door shifted and rang
And slowly shut faithful eyes that were never seen again