Marlene: a Tragedy
52, and other Truths. Minneapolis, Minnesota.
A creased creature, her face
soul to the very existence,
everything’s crinkled.
An orphaned mother
widowed of her life
under the curse of (in)humanity, injustice and Alzheimer’s.
Homeless in her 3K ft. square
she’d prepare Mexican, Italian
and go to sleep starving.
The twelve years cataracted dog
domesticates her now,
sometimes takes her to walks
through the alien world roads.
And those neighbors,
they’d pity her
empathizing from far away.
One of these neutral days
they’d talk of her,
by the corner of the street
while leaving their kids off to the Westhill High,
‘what happened to her, do you know
one of these wretched days?’
‘Yes, I heard Sheila’, Mrs Grumman will whisper
‘there was a loud bang,
a blow of a bullet shot!’
And from then on the dog will be orphaned too,
For two more years
Thomas, that was his name, now that I recall;
no hands then rubbed him
no hands he followed
no leash to pull ahead
nor any attention to be paid.
For two more years, only.
