Here Comes the Sky Again

You said this time that Zach
was dying, and then there was
that time that he was dead,

and I set sweeping acorns off the 
drive aside and drove Millport
Road to Two-twenty-two, 

and crossed the Conestoga River 
to get to you, to find that 
Zachy Wacky was on your lap,

both those times, and others too,
and you had set your black
pants on the bed and said

you did not need them now,
because . . . because . . .
you did not know but maybe

Wendy might want them though
and I said maybe, though I knew
the answer was no, but how 

to tell you true things true, and that
I doubt you now that your sky is
falling, but then . . . mine is too. 

---

This poem is the third in the series of “Sorry to Bother You” poems that I’m posting each week on Substack along with a reflection on the story behind the poem, all of them centered around caretaking my mom, Nancy.

This poem revolves around a direct allusion to “Chicken Little”, the folk tale about a chicken who has an acorn hit their head then runs around causing those around her to panic.

Calling my mom’s cat Zachy Wacky is a reference to the original story which uses rhyming names for the animals–Henny Penny, Foxy Loxy.

Sweeping up the acorns and the falling sky references are even bigger references to the story. I added the acorns thinking that maybe the references were too small or possibly that a newer generation would not know the Chicken Little story.

But of course there is a relatively popular animated movie about Chicken Little, so that should do the trick, right?

The allusion is a bit off, though, I’ll admit–the better story, I think, is the one about the boy crying wolf.

So what brilliant idea did I have to use Chicken Little instead?

None. There was no brilliant idea.

I think I should have used The Boy Who Cried Wolf.

I even re-read the story of Chicken Little and read through the Wikipedia page and at no point in that path did I stop and question this thought in my head that this wasn’t the story about saying something over and over until no one believes you anymore.

No, that story is about the Boy. And the Wolf.

But, I’m arguing here, I think the allusion still works to enrich the poem, especially as the idea of the sky falling is much more appropriate here. Experiencing dementia is much more a sky falling thing and much less a wolf eating you thing.

No analogy totally works–they are always stretched or shrunk a bit to fit.

That aside, I used three line stanzas here for the this important reason: I don’t have an important reason.

Sometimes this is a lyric decision, and this poem does have some a-typical lyric elements, mainly that the rhyme is not consistent and is rarely end-rhyme. You would not find a rhyme scheme here, try as you might.

Let’s look at the last stanza where the rhyme is significant but not typical–

to tell you true things true, and that
I doubt you now that your sky is
falling, but then . . . mine is too. 

The long u sound is repeated in the words “you”, “true”, “true”, “you”, and “too”–this allows the poem to feel final on the last word, the rhyme expected even though the sequence isn’t brick-layed.

The rhyme with “sky” and “mine” is also important, also contributing to that feeling that this is the end of the poem. Even the structure of “sky is” and “mine is” is a visual clue to this.

I also use ellipses three times here, which is a record for me. There are other ways to signify a pause for the reader, but this one felt . . . appropriate.

The hyphen or em dash can serve a similar function, or a line break, but here the ellipses is more natural, the way it feels to me, actually, when my mom sort of drifts trying to remember something.

It is important that this poem be playful to me–this is both a story of dementia and a story that I want the reader to feel free to laugh at.

It is funny that my mom keeps calling me to tell me her cat is dying, and that one time she called to say he was actually dead.

I couldn’t fit in part of that funny moment, the way my mom told me with a tone of “that’s just the way of things”.

She really wasn’t saying “the sky is falling!” that time, at least. Not through her tone.

I think I even might have said, “I’ll be over soon, Mom. I’ll grab a box.”

But the repetition of the calls with an urgency that I can decipher even while I doubt someone else would.

This poem is also about how to be truthful to someone who has dementia. The black pants are a perfect example of this. My mom always asks if Wendy might want such and such pants or shirts or dress or whatever doesn’t fit my mom or doesn’t fit her style anymore.

I know the answer–no, she won’t. But I’ve stopped saying this. I always just say, “I’ll ask her and if not I’ll give them to GoodWill.”

Telling “true things true” though, I just don’t know how that works here. There is a truth and a Truth.

So did I make some mistakes here? Sure.

But I don’t mind them. I don’t mind that I mixed up the folk tales. The poem still works. The meaning is clear,; well . . . clear-ish.

And eventually it’s time to move on to another poem.