after Ali Jane Smith, after Laurie Duggan
I’m starting to imagine my mother’s
life is taking a different course.
Was it her or me that lost the car
in the underground carpark? She tells the story.
I am her daughter, is she my child?
Memory unravelling when she tries to recall
the restaurant’s name, or the street it’s on.
The car wash—she was supposed to remember
how to get there, to wind the windows up.
I’m living in the cracks between two lives
can’t bring myself to say she should be assessed.
The missing house keys are found in the grass.
I miss the exit thinking of her and go around again.
Waking to a new day when the earth wobbles.
I’m starting to imagine my mother’s
in the underground carpark. She tells the story,
the restaurant’s name, or the street it’s on.
I’m living in the cracks between two lives.
I miss the exit thinking of her and go around again.
Life is taking a different course
I am her daughter, is she my child?
The car wash—she was supposed to remember,
can’t bring myself to say she should be assessed.
Waking to a new day when the earth wobbles.
Was it her or me that lost the car?
Memory unravelling when she tries to recall
how to get there, to wind the windows up.
The missing house keys are found in the grass.
I’m starting to imagine my mother’s
waking to a new day when the earth wobbles.
Life is taking a different course,
I miss the exit thinking of her and go around again.
Was it her or me that lost the car?
The missing house keys are found in the grass.
In the underground carpark she tells the story,
can’t bring myself to say she should be assessed,
I am her daughter, is she my child?
I’m living in the cracks between two lives.
Memory unravelling when she tries to recall
how to get there, to wind the windows up,
the restaurant’s name, or the street it’s on.
The car wash—she was supposed to remember.
I’m starting to imagine my mother’s
memory unravelling when she tries to recall.
Can’t bring myself to say she should be assessed.
Life is taking a different course—
the restaurant’s name, or the street it’s on,
the missing house keys are found in the grass.
Was it her or me that lost the car?
The car wash—she was supposed to remember.
I miss the exit thinking of her and go around again
in the underground carpark. She tells the story—
how to get there, to wind the windows up.
Waking to a new day when the earth wobbles,
I am her daughter, is she my child?
I’m living in the cracks between two lives.