I remember mama

Mom said I was most like her

 Grudge holding, passive but sentimental

 rattlesnake venomed sweetheart 

 Sending out fireballs of hurt 

 innocently meaning well

 Standing at the stove simmering

 Peeking out at the world

 Disgusted at its sweaty reality

 Smiling wanly, holding back

 Cursing through gritted teeth

 Offering a shoulder to lean on

 Jumping in reluctantly,

 then treading and making strokes

 She endured, persisted

 Taking us along 

 Toward a somewhat unsatisfactory conclusion to the grand story