In Belle Maison Nursing Home

[Andre DeCuir]

     "I like when the poem goes, 'In  Brueghel's Icarus, for instance:  how everything turns away,'"I read to my grandmother.

    "'Musee des Beaux Arts'-- sounds nice," she said, "like Paris," but I didn't say, "Ma Ma, that's in Brussels."

     I slid the book across the sheets closer to her so she could see the painting and read on, the noxious odor of battle between urine and industrial cleaner stinging my eyes:  ". . .  . white legs disappearing into the green/ Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen / Somethig amazing, a boy falling out of the sky, /Had somewhere else to get to and sailed calmly on."

     "I bet your  Pa pa's  fishing boat would have stopped to help that Icarus child even though he has funny legs.  And. . . and . . . green water . . . like that time in Florida when I smoothed your hair as we sat and watched the waves."

     That sudden splash of light I noticed  in her eyes made me sit back in my chair and talk about Florida.

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[Joey Delgado]

Beautfiul. Can see her trying to piece together the fragmented memories. Great work.

[Andre DeCuir]

Thanks so much Jeanette!

[Andre DeCuir]

Thanks for your kind comments, Gita

[Jeanette Cheezum]

Oh yes, Andre. We have to go with the flow. I loved the last line.

[Gita]

Some of the sixes on here strive to do what you've done so beautifully, tell a whole story in a few deft strokes. I can smell the nursing home (is there any other odor like it?) and see Icarus and feel the old woman's memory slip back in time. Damn good piece!