www.marywickham.com
Alzheimers

The words flew one by one from the cage of her mind. A few fluttered, circling,…

Incrementally she moves down the slipway into the murk, sliding, with the occasional lurch, not into…

She answers the phone. I am too old to be in charge of this ship. Too…

Purple she said, and purple she meant, and purple they were, the flowers. I knew a…

What he has written he has written, he says: a name which signifies this self, flickers…

Left out in the rain too long the words on the pages of the long book…