When the ravages of Alzheimer’s leave an elderly woman marooned in painful memories of October 1950, her grandchild comes up with a creative strategy.
Bleeding from More than a Thousand Javelins
by MARGARET ADKINS
Last night I walked down a mile-long hospital corridor
with Nye Bevan. There were no lights, just my old nurse’s torch
and I remembered how I used to run as a student
down empty corridors, afraid of ghosts.
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