Trapped
for Jennifer
the third floor of the rest home
is for the living dead
old, shriveled, spoon feed yellowish mush
except my friend who still has color in her hair
and a son in college
although she says no she has no son
and no, she shakes her head, she has no husband
I wheel her around the floor
to see the African Grey parrot
he won’t talk that day---
walks his bar back and forth
back and forth
I ask my friend what she wants
a Coke, ice cream, popcorn?
I want my mother
I want my father
Why did I ask her
for what I cannot give
now she names her sisters --
Elizabeth, Mary Rose, Catherine
as she talks the aide appears
and scolds, clear you throat, speak up
my friend’s eyes tighten,
her body tenses under the white robe
I feel her fear
or is it anger
I touch her arm
If only she knew nothing at all
I leave having no idea about anything
I am not heartbroken
just numb—so I turn
as I leave and hate the trimmed bushes
the organized flowers
the pretentious oversized door awnings
wealth trappings covering the unbearable
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