Iota of Time
After we shared the smoked mackerel,
olive bread, and wild rice we sautéed
with fresh sweet pepper,
you played your symphony in four parts
- music strung together while caring for your
failing mother still sporting a crown.
Her tempestuous majesty plays a little too long,
scoring no surprises. But you orchestrate
a chance that the last second, at least the last,
may kindness be her finale.
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