I wrote the poem "Marriage," which appears below, and in this issue of Cirque, years ago. I found it in a pile of work stacked in one of my cubbie holes. It was written when Abe was still home, already diagnosed with Alzheimer's I think, but still functioning relatively okay. He didn't go into a facility until 2006 so I must have written this in the early 2000's when we were both still hoping he would get better. That was such a long time ago, but I remember it as if it were yesterday. I especially liked the kiss at the end of the poem. I will look for more of these stashed-away jottings, and thank Cirque for publishing this one.
Marriage
She has been taking him
to doctors
every day for a month
and once this last week
he hollered at her.
He was tired too
and was sorry afterwards.
When they came home
she went to bed
and didn’t get up for hours.
When she did,
he was in the kitchen
making dinner.
He turned to look at her.
She smiled and said:
I’m better now.
He put Mozart’s
Divertimento 563
into the CD slot.
They sat down
together
and ate dinner,
but first
he kissed her.
-Esther Altshul Helfgott
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