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
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