in her last days
my mother manipulated us
openly
blackmailing us with
senility
in all its flavours
'o, I know what you're up too'
she'd say, seeing conspiracy everywhere
and call me by my brother's name
and accuse me of his faults
'you can't hide from me'
she'd say, and we'd resent it
but now
years down the track,
sober drunks praise her in
the public bar of their recovery,
and I glow in her
reflected serenity
and phone to tell my brother
what a good woman she was,
our mother of the manipulative ways -
he laughs and asks
for a contribution to
her last pharmacy bill
and mimics her voice -
'you can't hide from me'
Andrew Burke
28/12/2005
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