Dementia's tweezers pluck her apricot memories,
pop Wordsworth's daffodils like spilt beads.
X-rays expose the bullet holes
while medicos check for the calibre,
sift through the embers of a dying skull.
There is a little Halloween here,
white ants in the art deco,
you get the picture.
The dice falls like a guillotine.
Sue Clennell (Western Australia)
First published in SpeedPoets