She wipes her salad grin
as she presses a bare finger
to my stomach swelling
behind a thin flannel shirt.
"It is mercy that's kept you
alive this long," she says,
driving a fork into a flake
of soggy lettuce.
"Eat this," she adds.
Droll words I thought
I traded in with my mother's
broccoli.
It is the garden-variety charm
of a woman who cares for you,
wants to keep you around for
a while, wants to dominate you
at all costs.
In these stark moments of
self-discrimination, a man
is selfish when he doesn't abide,
and foolish when he does.