Friday, June 30, 2017

Villanelle

My grandmother was tortured so tortured us,
Saying mom was fat, dumb, and should see a shrink,
Though we all got used to that.  She was the boss.

No matter your age or how many grandkids you toss
On the family pile, you always stood on the brink:
My grandmother was tortured so tortured us

Wherever we were, as she saw fit.  Without any fuss
She identified her targets: we were her playthings!
Though we all got used to that, she was the boss,

With underlings to beat down, to belittle, she’d cuss
In our faces till we cried and fled the family shin dings.
My grandmother was tortured so tortured us,

Thinking, perhaps, we’d get stronger, more robust
Of spirit, ready to take on the world, and never sink!
Though we all got used to that, she was the boss

That gave no promotions, no praise, tallied each loss
In columns with our names attached by chain-link.
My grandmother was tortured so tortured us,
Though we got used to that. She was the boss.

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