Never Much to Me

The Grandparents are going insane
they’ve forgotten who’s dead
which day
what name

Flies
cover
everything
in a rotten foul lair
a buzzing factory teeming
no longer people
just
bags of misery in there

Like the empty bourbon shells
languid in the sink
fading shapes of her Mum and Dad
have vanished
with the drink

But they were never any good
had no sense of pride
and it was in the arms of others
that my Mother had to hide

So I suppose it’s all just karma
“serves them right” they’ll say
but family baggage is the heaviest
and I still see her struggle
lugging it ‘round all day
I still see her worry
for people she does not owe
the memories and the bodies
just won’t shift quick
instead
deteriorate and linger
painfully slow