Palliative Care Ward, Mareeba, 2009

Dementia crowds the empty corners.
Brothers visit each morning and I am her
daughter, though never the same one,
I have as many names as a goddess.
The linoleum creaks, the flowers dry
in over-sterile air. She is never alone.
In visiting hours she clings to my hand,
eyes closed, skin milk-grey, and begs me
to save her and take her home.

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