Kai-li Davey: Still There
Still There
Life might be different had you
listened to what the doctor’s said: “take your meds.”
But you don’t listen to the ones you love most,
So why hear out the ones you can’t stand?
I often sit, stare off and wonder,
Is this all a test
of forgiveness? To see if I
could accept it from you, ask it of myself?
I fail, everyday, miserably. It’s cause I know
you’re still in there.
Aren’t you?
But everyday the lines
in your face grow deeper,
grease in your hair.
The pungent smell
of urine soaked
into your clothes, lingering
on your skin because you forgot
to shower. Or maybe because you won’t
let anyone help. You say
you’re embarrassed, that it can wait.
I watch your eyes
as you stare out the window.
At the rain pelting
against the glass.
Lost in the depths, drowning
in the rivers of your mind.
I hear you
screaming, then run
in, breathless, white walls
blurring, closing in.
I watch as you mumble
your own kind of language.
Eyes fluttering, a dream coming to life,
playing with your plaque-filled brain.
Arms reaching up, but there’s nothing
to grab onto.
“Good days” are growing
far and few between, but I
as your daughter, grab
onto them with my vice-like grip. Holding
onto these “Good days” when you
wake up and know where we are.
The house, the date, my name.
To your voice saying, “Hi, baby.” When the plaque
is pushed aside and you reach
for my hand. Squeeze.
That’s you.
But then, the sun goes down.
The sky fades from orange to black.
And you’re gone.
I try to shift my brain
into thinking of your disappearance
differently. Trying with every cell
of my being, whispering under my breath,
“You went away,
but you’ll be back tomorrow.”
Whispering to myself
like when the doctor’s whispered, stroke
when nurses whispered, genetics. Trying
to figure out what triggered this decay.
Triggered like typing
these words trigger me now. So, I guess
I’ll stop.
Just sit and wait for the sun
to peek through the curtains again.
Awaiting the short moment,
when you’ll come back to me.
Kai-li Davey is a fiction writer and poet from Southington, Connecticut. Her poetry has appeared in Eastern Connecticut State University’s literary journal, Eastern Exposure and the fifth edition of Here: A Poetry Journal. Davey’s fiction can be found in Sigma Tau Delta Rectangle and Eastern Exposure. She holds a Bachelor of Arts from Eastern Connecticut State University. Davey is currently a Master of Fine Arts candidate and Graduate Teaching Intern in Southern Connecticut State University’s Creative Writing program.