We lose keys. We lose wallets. We lose cellphones. We lose remote controls. We lose our glasses. We lose notes we specifically write to remind us of important tasks. We lose names of people and places on the tips of our tongues. We lose fleeting thoughts, ideas so brilliant and original, if we could have only held on to them. And some of us lose our minds.

“These poems,” says Rainford, “tell the stories of my mother’s dementia and Alzhehimer’s disease. I never thought I’d have to take care of my mother like this, but we don’t get to cherry pick when people need us most.”

Rainford, author of three poetry collections, Adrift, Salty Liquor, and Liner Notes, lives on Swan’s Island year-round. Rainford's poems, shaped by tides, saltwater, music, and experience, are published in a wide range of literary magazines, university journals, and newspapers.