She bites her tongue and sacrifices
it to her in-laws and social betters.
That chip on her shoulder she gifts
to her child in a sloping embrace.
Edges in attitude are worn
by back taxes and left overs.
Her blockhead crumbles,
her iron will oxidizes,
and she finds herself blunt
except in the manner of speech
which now involves mainly talk
about the weather.
In a decade you might find her
a heap of sediment, taking pride
in an incident free pot luck,
looking forward to sunny days ahead.
Bonnie Rae Walker is a graduate of UCI, currently living in San Diego. She is published in Right Hand Pointing, Red Paint Hill Poetry Journal, Steel Toe Review and more. As well, she is forthcoming in Whale Road Review. To find out more visit www.bonnieraewalker.com.