At the Field Museum,
in the Colombian World’s Fair exhibit,
a sign speaks of the disappearance of the carrier pigeon.
To commemorate its demise, I stare at a stuffed version of itself displayed in 1893.
Yesterday I sat in a dry sauna and wondered,
If I sat here long enough,
with all my juices running out,
would I disappear?
Would I simply become vapor?
At dinner a few days ago, I saw Gregory’s Alzheimers
insidiously colonizing his core.
No longer knowing what a fork is
or the function for kinds of his clothing
or even the meaning of words,
he is disappearing.
While his shape is here, his smell and his sound,
he is being swallowed up,
His person is flying away,
slowly dispersing itself into the bone and sinew of others’ memories,
leaving all of us,
clutching for each other.
“Disappearing” by Jan Yourist © 2013