Memory is a lover
With too short a memory.
I had some lines about this
Already composed, but then
Life interrupted and I
Forgot what I had to say.
Here I am, nonexistent,
A form marooned in a form,
A convention with nothing
To show for my surrender.
A daughter and a mother
Fought as if bedtime were death.
Father thought in fact it was.
Memory is no lover.
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