In a Greek City
Egypt, 315
Bringing my face up against hers,
“Who am I?” I say to my mother.
She’s sitting on the edge of the bed,
Her legs swollen, stiff, the colour of white stone.
“Neilos,” she says, “but why do you ask?”
Her big eyes, wide open, stare at me
Uncomprehendingly. “Can’t find my comb,” she says.
“Have you seen it?” Her right arm’s in plaster.
The wind, sand-filled, blows through the house, rattling
Windows, opening and closing the unhinged
Panels of her mind. I give her the comb.
In a gesture I know so well, her left palm,
Bent at the knuckle, touches the hairline,
Ready to follow the comb’s path through the tangles,
But the hand has no grip and the comb slips.
Shoulders hunched, hands in her lap, she looks
Like a child abandoned in a park.
“Let it be, we’ll do the hair later,”
I tell her and go upstairs to get her breakfast—
A cup of milk, honey-cake, figs.
She eats hungrily, and I watch her eat,
Wiping her gummy mouth from time to time.
A sweettalker with one sharp tongue, she spoke
In many voices; neighbours and slaves
Told her their stories; she was the keeper
Of gossip. No one now comes, except
The wind blows, the windows rattle, and she asks,
“Where’s Mama? Where’s Papa? Where are my sisters?”
“They’re dead,” I tell her, matter of factly,
As though reporting an incident in the street.
“Is that so,” she says, her mind somewhere else.
“Get me something to eat. What do we have?”
“But you’ve just eaten. See, you forget.”
She forgets that she forgets.
“Whose house is this?” she asks. “Where’s my bedroom?
When are we going back to Number 16?”
“You’re in your own house,” I tell her.
“You’re in Number 16, where you’ve always lived.
Don’t you recognize the garden? the stairs?
The Gospels on the shelf, Matthew and John?
Shall I read out a passage?” She looks tired.
I ask her to walk, to get some exercise,
But she’s adamant. “My no’s a no.”
That’s more like her. When she lies down, on her side,
I roll up her vest, exposing her back,
Letting the disinfecting sun fall directly
On her skin, where it’s discoloured, purplish, hard,
One unhealing bedsore oozing thickly.