The Stardust in a Black Hole

My mother never spoke about her senility-

She hid it under dirty sheets,
that we were forbidden to clean.
Occasionally,
forgetting that the dog needed feeding.

Reiterating stories she had already told
hair filled the shower drain
raven soon dulled to grey 
dust grew overtop the mold

The dog's ribcage
began to protrude-
We dined on leftover's every night,
until the trickle ran cold.
There were constellation tracking up her arm
from dodging bullets of Chemical Warfare
razors inside apples, were planted at our door
The dogs whines got softer-
Ours got louder.
Red painted the walls,
the ceilings, the floors.

We used the sheets that we found in an alleyway-
To make ourselves a fort.
Wrapping ourselves inside them-
my mother barricaded her door.
Someone must have gotten in.
in the night, we wrapped those same blankets tight-
around my mom
And our dog.
Buried with a needle, & a dog toy
a memoir for the things, they had loved.