Accustomed as I am to be shut up
whenever I’m in Mom’s vicinity,
as much as I’m determined to put up
with disregard for my veracity
and memory (and cause she set the tone
at home, my dad and brothers joked along,
so I the oldest, only girl, alone,
was mocked with so much love it made me strong),
imagine my amazement yesterday,
when I attempted to expound a thought,
and saw my mother look at me the way
she would if it were my respect she sought.
My brothers didn’t interrupt or jeer;
I think they all think Mom’s demise is near.