Jim

Jim’s hands shake
As he sits in his plastic chair,
His bald head speckled with white hairs,
His eyes big and blank.

I see him but I don’t see him often
He keeps relapsing, disappearing
I think about how it’s likely
No one will find his body.

He found out he has Parkinson’s,
And I could feel my heart break.

Then he said he’s told me before
But I’d forgotten.

 


Ellie Bozmarova was born in Sofia, Bulgaria. Her poetry, essays, and fiction have appeared in phoebe, TIMBER, FlyPaper Magazine, and elsewhere. She holds an MFA in Creative Nonfiction from Goucher College and is an editorial intern at McSweeney’s. Read more of her work at elliebozmarova.com.

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