So much patient effort goes into
raising someone so lovely, so loving.
Like every newly born mother,
you discovered life’s purpose
when this child was born: keep her safe
from a treacherous world. A work of heart,
she steps from your canvas,
intent on ravaging the perfection
she takes for granted. You aren’t mistaken.
She’s much too young to take a lover.
Your part in this drama happens off stage,
leaving us to imagine how you feel,
awakening one morning to balcony doors
flung open. Who comforts you when you
sit alone, sifting through memory’s ruble?
