She said, “Alzheimer’s.”
She said, “Alzheimer’s.” (Version 2)
An empty shape wears my shoulder,
yet, if I wait, there comes a moment
a focus,
pieces of possibility, a right answer—
something.
Everyone asks for something…always do.
Shifting words wheel
answers circle, spin.
The worst…when there’s nothing…
not even the wheel.
I wish you could come in…
out is impossible.
Do you see me?
I’m over there.
Scapes
All these places
melting as we wake.
A setting not returned to,
left somewhere after building it.
Scapes’ drawn down deeply
to a land we won’t remember.
Where do these go—
constructed carefully in our dreams,
giving answers questions not asked.
Yet headlong, we climb in, line up to,
or run into a dreamscape
of unmemorable passages,
building as we go.
The Bear in the Cemetery This Afternoon
no whispering prayers
granite jaws and marble teeth
hold other truer memories
mapped in procession
and now,
a brown granite teddy bear
among the clash and repeat of elders
there, shiny and new
protecting that child
with so little said
Judy DeCroce, is an internationally published poet, flash fiction writer, educator, and avid reader whose recent works have been published by Brown Bag Online, North of Oxford, The Poet Magazine, Amethyst Review, The Wild Word, OPEN:Journal of Arts & Letters, and a number of journals and anthologies.
As a professional storyteller and teacher of that genre, she also offers workshops in flash fiction. Judy lives and works in upstate New York with her husband poet/artist, Antoni Ooto.