they say that fancy angelfish
glow brightest right before
they die.  I never had an angel
just a mother
and she glowed so bright
the sun fled my sky

hired guns in white coats
can’t slay the knight
on his ivory horse
but they’ll boast
they know the cold odds
and bet you a warm future

tired nurses
hang futile silver bags
as the crab devours my mother
I hold her close
and memorize the lines
in her palms

the Moirae weave
a tricky double-helix
genes don’t lie
but they can hide
more spiders
than Arachne’s closet

in my empty home I scrub
her blood from my clothes
when the sun finally comes
I find her shadow
in every photograph
and mirror

But. I know I must
look to my own hand
to unravel the strands

dwelling in the webs
inside your own head
makes for a crabbed life
better to be a fish and swim
as hard as you can to the sun
and glow

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