lemon pie

the senior citizen
nursing home
smells like a wet
diaper
and boiling cabbage.
it seeps into
your skin
and clothes. hours
later, you can still
smell it on you.
the fan in the bathroom
never stops
running. ever.
your mother is
looking a good house
keeping magazine
when you come in,
but it's upside down.
the tulips on
the front dangle
pink and red
cups to the ground.
she doesn't know
what day it is.
what season,
what year, or who
the president is.
none of that really
matters at this point.
they feed her well.
she has on clean
clothes.
her hair is brushed.
her glasses are
on. she is a shade
greyer than the last
visit, but she smiles
and says your name
when you arrive.
she puts her hand out
and says, what's that.
dessert? then you
hand her a slice of
lemon pie, her favorite,
with a small
white plastic fork.