You, Whatever, the Ineluctable

You, whatever, the
ineluctable despair
of four p.m.,
woman in a mole-gray dress
who taps me on the shoulder
to inform me that the day
is closing like a library
or a carnival, early,
without explanation.
You love to spread
untimely darkness,
the way a love-starved aunt
shares stories of divorce
at weddings. You
are Mrs. Danvers
at the window,
coaxing me to jump; you
are my mother,
in that fight we had,
telling me I could have ended early
and painlessly.

Author: Spambellina
Inspiration: Email entitled “You whatever the ineluctable,” received from the lovely and talented Mia Rios, January 2007.


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