What Hatred Is [revised] Poem by Margaret Alice Second

She doesn’t love him, she can’t - frankly
he’s unlovable; only a mother might love
such a brute - or a daughter, but his own
mother did not love him. I am a daughter
loving him because, as he grew up, he’s
me in an older, less privileged guise

I’ve his podgy hands, hairline, the short,
stocky build and toes, his love for telling
stories; I share a musical inability, can't
master electronics, am too clumsy BUT
speak with my own voice, don’t talk like
him, fought against it since I was small

Imitated mother’s diction, always on her
side if they fought. My brothers express
disgust at mom’s incapacity to love dad
& grandma Alice; dad is more unlovable
as time passes - my sis treats him like a
brain-dead child while mom attempts a

Disrespectful tone, spiteful and nasty
as if failing to force an ethical ‘ought’
to help dad who sounds like a demon
himself, their awful interaction sparks
such outrage in me I leave when they
converse; her undisguised contempt

Insults both dad and me, her total lack
of consideration for his intelligence is
crystal clear though she won’t admit
she detests him, her obviously false
behaviour evokes the worst from us
and thus she teaches what hatred is