alterations

hands swollen with effort
brow furrowed
leaking foul language,
my dusty knuckles bleeding and
failing to fix the pantry door.  
but the deep bruise, the real hurt, 
that dagger of regret
for my shouted harsh reply
to your kind question -
"i'm going to a friend's for dinner tonight, remember?!!"
the irritation of defeat
pooling in my answer.
"remember?!!"
remember. 
a newly growing shadow to 
such a common response.
as if i'd suddenly somehow just forgotten 
that we'd spent most of the afternoon
discussing what we'd do when you
lose your faculties.
what plans we should make for
when we are beyond the ability 
to plan together.
when you might actually
forget that i was there, 
in your home, 
trying to mend something 
deeply in need of mending. 
when i'd longingly look back 
at today's to-do list
and feverishly wish to discuss,
in every micromanaged inch of detail
what exactly you wanted from every task.
which light bulbs needed changing,
which computer problem to solve,
which scam to unsubscribe you from,
which batteries to change,
papers to shred, 
expired food to toss.
whose loneliness to ease,
which of our broken hearts to repair.
the door still off its hinges, 
i went home.
remembering on the drive 
that for all in your house 

i can help with there is so much
i still can't remedy.