When disease acquired the domain of your mind,
it infected the main frame taking sector
after sector, file after file, leaving

you unreadable, inaccessible
and at times unstable. You made errors,
repeated yourself and were unable

to process new information. You froze
up, got overheated and couldn’t function
or stay on task. Your eyes weren’t windows

to your soul and I wasn’t the apple
of your eye. In time, corruption followed
(the family kind) and you were locked up

behind gates where nurses were given jobs
to care for you. I hoped for updates,
a recovery but your memory

failed, your system crashed and I couldn’t wake
you from sleep. You shut down, disconnected
behind the white partition screened off in blue.

Zetetic separator

—Pamela is the author of three poetry collections: Something from Nothing, (Writing Knights Press) Woodwinds, (Lipstick Press) and Matrimonial Cake (Red Dashboard). When Pamela is not writing, she’s sleeping. She believes sleep is death without the commitment. Pamela lives in BC with her husband and 2 children.

2 Responses

  1. G.Guilbault
    at · Reply

    Absolutely Brillant

  2. Chris Barili
    Chris Barili
    at · Reply

    This is wonderful!

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