Spend my days writing remedies

Right now I’m reading about Alzheimer’s
the book between my hands ripping open threads
within my body like I’m a cross-word.
I out-line symptoms and circle words with my eyes
I leave my hands behind to run errands
make tea and chase the warmth of your memory.

I crumble the edges of my paper between my fingertips
balance them on my knees and review scribbled remedies.
I think of how much I’ve rushed our relationship
and it makes me scared that I’ve forgotten
more than there ever was to remember.
I keep a pen and paper near because I don’t have you
and maybe that doesn’t mean anything.

Or perhaps I’m just to reluctant to let go,
but she says she remembers the trivial things he did;
the mistake with the laundry, his pink pants-
attempts at becoming self- sufficient,
almost burning the house to the ground trying to make toast.
The smell of paint and strange chemicals remind her of his garage;
early morning starts and fishing equipment like booby traps in the hallway.
The day his hip threatened to give way halfway up a flight of stairs;
so I re-read the lines trying to remind me of the women you once were.