Skilled at drama, she played her part too well,
Practicing moves at every instance, off lights,
Don’t need her snaps, knowing her every turn,
That inviting look, that snare of restless fingers,
The venom of her fangs, the depth of her bite,
Relationships were scripts, every person a role,
Focused and diminished to her changing needs,
They were gestures all, well tailored to each,
Her early crawl to lonely dotage yet to be,
She was a baby once, so innocent and so cute,
Claps of joy and cries through powdery mess,
Cued to newer toys at shop than boy next door,
Then a girl, her charm oozing from every pore,
Smile to scowl, scaled to mood of that moment,
For he of hairy chest, or a joke, or a larger car,
Sometimes all three, safe distance from each,
Becoming mother next with her breasts intact,
Weaned children on healthy government milk,
Proud that as they grew, she became younger,
Being talk of town at Parent - Teachers Meet,
Older next to dictate choice of her son’s mate,
One that could cook to her loosened molars,
Literate to read her pills, press her lower back,
Never having felt heat of sun or chill of dew,
Never having sensed falling rain on raw skin,
Stranger to tears, hot and cold, down cheeks,
Never having seen anyone straight in the eye,
She now prays to God to carry her off in sleep.
(2012)