Hidden away from the whole

The voice,

her voice, repeating,

I have to hang up.

We’re about to take off.

They want me to hang up.

We’ll talk tomorrow.

Okay?

 

I imagined she was speaking

to her mother that way,

or to the parts of her mother

dementia has left untouched for now,

not the parts

that have been buried away

from the whole of the world.

 

But another voice,

speaking more forcefully,

cited the pilot, saying,

you must stop now

and end your call,

and said it again,

end your call.

 

The oil and water chorus

continued, and the voice

said goodbye before,

one voice to another,

explaining,

that was my brother.

He’s in prison.

 

And my next thought was

that must be worse than dementia.