Efi Hatzimanolis #101 Dementia

In a sea of oneway tides back,
back where the moon retains its draw
back into the childhood house, a moon’s store
of thirty three umbrellas, at last count.
She had a granny's flair for lifting them
when she was caught out 
in the rain.
The sea knows nothing of it,
the moon turns a blind eye,
umbrellas collect,
what she does now no longer 
registers in her waters.