To One In Hell
for a stroke victim
One hand raised, the other grips
the walker you push slowly
forward. You have forgotten
again if the piano
is on the left or right
as you wheel your way
to the bathroom. Robbed of sight,
of most memories, you can still
get up unassisted,
can walk but only if
you keep to a very
narrow circuit that starts
with one recliner and ends
with another, a route,
devoid of stairs. A route
kept clear at all times. You move
counter-clock wise through rooms
you once knew so well. Your tongue
is often shocked by what
it says; your word-perch now
a raucous roost. There should be
a switch someplace, if you
could only find it, that turns
the lights back on. A key
you fumble for day and night
that just might unlock yourself.
Nick Conrad’s poems first appeared in the 70’s/ 80’s in journals such as Green House, The Cumberland Review, and the TLS, with more than190 published since. His first book, Lake Erie Blues (Urban Farmhouse), was published in 2020.