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her phone call had the desired effect.
like always - it drew blood,
the way she dialed into the neglect of
a lifetime was no re-enactment,
it was all fresh, as if it had just happened.
“you never look at it from my point of view,’
she said, hoping silently to break her,
so that nobody won. love can be like that.
it means nothing unless it’s headed
in your direction -
& she, the wounded child,
exacting her revenge, would maintain
the punishment until that time
when her own child stared back
with the same exacting eyes, silently,
asking, where were you, then?
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