You can call me Amnesia

I wake up
to the smell of what you say is
coffee
and when I ask my name
you say it
is Karoline,

but when you say to go to sleep
I can't remember what
that IS
and I never dream at night
as I have no idea how

I am Louisa, and I eat porridge
for dinner
each night, trying to turn off the stove
as the apartment caught fire
the last time I
forgot (you say fire, like it is bad)

and I see that you are tired
but I don't know your name
though
I am not sure if you are here
anyway

Martha goes to take a shower
but
prefers to do it without
an audience of you
and I tried to eat what you call shampoo
but I cannot see the attraction

and then one morning
I miss something, but I can't tell what
and the front door is open
and the wind is blowing leaves past the somethingsoutside
and there are shoe prints leading out that
door,

so that when I wake I wash some mysterious prints
away
because I suspect that mud should not be
attached
to floors too long,

and soon my porridge tastes less
appealing
than I can't remember if it ever has.



Poetry by muddy waters
Read 530 times
Written on 2006-05-03 at 15:54

Tags Amnesic 

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Kathy Lockhart
My goodness what a treasure this is. You must have captured the torment of many who suffer with diseases that affect the memory. Lots of good imagery here.
2006-05-04


Amanda Manmohan
I love the fact that you seemed unappreciative at the beginning of the poem, but towards the end you so simply sensed that something was missing, although you didn't even realise it. You really got into character for this poem and it was excellent!
2006-05-04