EMMA

Stone deaf and nearly blind, my years
Are ninety-two. I started to fall a lot,
So my son decided I should leave home and brought
Me here to the nursing home, a place where

I’m tended, kept clean: my dresses are new,
I go on breathing and fall less often, but
It’s not my home and home was all I had
Left. Unhearing I can’t converse, and who

Want’s to just be talked at? My eyes
Are filmed over. It’s like I’m in a tomb.
Not really. I’m shuffling along to my room.
Do you want to come too? No? Goodbye.

I knew you once when I was young and strong.
Now my smile is fixed. How long! How long!

(63, November 4, 1992)

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