Poem Hunter
(01.01,72 / New Orleans, Louisiana)


Poem By Chris Tusa

My grandmother’s teeth stare at her
from a mason jar on the nightstand.

The radio turns itself on,
sunlight crawls through the window,

and she thinks she feels her bright blue eyes
rolling out her head.

She’s certain her blood has turned to dirt,
that beetles haunt the dark hollow of her bones.

The clock on the kitchen wall is missing its big hand.
The potatoes in the sink are growing eyes.

She stares at my grandfather standing in the doorway,
his smile flickering like the side of an axe.

Outside, in the yard, a chicken hops
through the tall grass, looking for its head.

User Rating: 3,6 / 5 ( 9 votes ) 7

Comments (7)

Touching poem about a subject so many of us are familiar with. I have had relatives with this disease, so I hope I don't succumb to it as well. I try to stay alert by playing chess and writing my silly little rhymes.
Heartbreaking, complicated, difficult to verbalise - a disease that is widespread but somehow not talked about. I have a relative of mine,88, who suffers from Alzheimer's disease. He used to be an athlete, and during my childhood, I had seen him as someone who is strong as a 'lion' (we call him Lion) , and now, it is all the more difficult and painful to look at him as he often just stares into the void, or sometimes starts talking with himself, sometimes saying that he is going to prepare for the Olympics... You have captured a brutal image.. Thank you for the poem.. It's a poignant one that touches the heart.
Brilliant- especially last 2 lines
Oooh...gruesome.. old age and hallucinations...
Beauty depicted through brutality nicely expounded. It's a rarely explored shade of life. Thanks for sharing.10 points.