The warm sun
robbed her photos of
familiar faces and
distant happy places

A friends’s name,
just yesterday,
burnt off her tongue
by cacao
left on the stove
too long.

The blinds are shut
in the daytime now

as the night gets
in her fuzzy bathrobe
and slippers

and eats the last biscuit
leaving crumbs on the counter
and a few on the floor.

She sits there
by the window
reading in the dark,
never turning a page.