Again

Somewhere between my sister wheeling
her out to the curb so me and my brother
can 1-2-3 lift, slide her into the back seat
and coming home with seven hundred
forty-eight dollars from Viva Las Vegas
Elvis slot machines, my mother is going
to say she’s afraid of dying. Sometime
after asking what her youngest grandkids,
Daniel and Alexis, are doing this Saturday
and saying here, give them a hundred each.
Before we stop for lunch, cut her cheesesteak
into bite-sized pieces, strip the straw
and push her soda closer, plop ketchup
on her fries and wrap up what’s left
for her dinner. Maybe while insisting
she doesn’t need a hospital bed,
doesn’t want x-rays on her shoulder
that she still can’t lift since her fall
a month ago and we better not
think about bringing in-home help
into her house. When I tell her Donna’s
doing some research, hoping to find
someone four hours a day, three days
a week, she’ll change the subject, ask
about cousin Emily’s recent funeral,
98 years old, how it’s only JoAnne
and herself left now, how we better
not tell anyone she went to the casino
after she didn’t attend the wake or Mass.
Yes, most likely then, she’s going to say
she’s afraid to die, and again
I won’t know what to say,
other than me too mom.

Tony Gloeggler is a life-long resident of NYC and managed group homes for the mentally challenged for over 40 years. Poems have been published in Rattle, New Ohio Review, Vox Populi, Gargoyle, BODY. His most recent book, What Kind Of Man with NYQ Books, was a finalist for the 2021 Paterson Poetry Prize and Here on Earth will be published by NYQ Books in 2024.