Dementia

'black with widening amnesia'

Derek Walcott

When his sleeping face

was a scrunched tissue,

wet with babbling,

you came, unravelling a joy,

making him euphoric, dribbling

from his mouth-

you simplified a complicated man,

swallowed his past

until your breath was

warm as Caribbean

concrete-

O tender syndrome

steady in his greying eyes,

fading song

in his grand dancehall,

if you must,

do your gentle magic,

but make me unafraid

of what is

disappearing.