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  • Writer's pictureyannick-robin eike mirko

the last poem I wrote about you while you were alive

March 2023

He said he wanted a daughter so when he went bald she could put a wig on him. She never did, though the mold that accumulates on the part of his head that rests on the pillow never leaves, + is getting pretty bad. She knows this.

I asked if I could cut his hair like I used to, he didn’t remember that. Which is funny, because I wrote a screenplay that opens with him asking for a haircut at an incredibly inconvenient time, like he always did, only to me. She likely knows this, too. Interesting you remember that about her, and not that about me.

At least I groomed the dogs. She never did that either.

At least you remember me.

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