"BAKER ACT"-ING MAMA
Aurelia D Wallace
Because I can't remember
What I had for lunch, they
Think I'm getting senile.
I hear them whispering
About the Shady Elms.
Good God, I'm not ready
For Shady Elms! I can
Still read Greek, I know
The whole score of Lucia,
(Though they don't take me
To music anymore, since
I've had to wear these paper
Pants). I can make Martha Washington's
Own recipe for Sally Lunn,
Without once peeking. I can
Recite the names and birthdays of all
Nine grandchildren, and I know
Franklin Roosevelt is dead.
All they ask me, though,
Is my street number backwards
And what I had for lunch, what
Day it is. Of course I know
Where I live, silly: inside these bones,
This bag my skin. No none needs
To know what I know anymore.
How is it they don't know
All days are Sunday--
As long as I can breathe
This splendid, cautious air?

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