Sputterpub's Blog

Although my parents picked at me, and mocked
my oddities, and disciplined me first
(I was the oldest), and were sometimes shocked
or charmed the way I spoke, and thought I nursed
my shrimp as prized beyond how each enjoys
a favorite, though for years I haven’t heard
them say I’d better supervise the boys,
I understand the power in that word.

So silently I’ve watched my brothers age,
and now and then I subtly intervene.
I don’t believe they notice, and no wage
is paid me to perform, but I feel clean
at heart and proud to tend the sibling cord.
Caressing self-approval’s my reward.

All three of us had narcissistic moms
who gazed in mirrors more than at their girls.
They blocked our feelings with their upraised palms,
and teaching husband hunting, dropped no pearls
of useful wisdom. Each preferred her son,
and deprecated women when they could.
Transactional perspective formed their run,
and beauty, wealth and status were their good.

So we are linked by histories, but not
as similar in navigating years.
For all had fathers not to be forgot.
Although one drank too often, it appears,
and two did not assure the wife enough,
the third was made of strong and loving stuff.