Sentimentality Yours Poem by Patti Masterman

I have inherited some family
who give you unsigned greeting cards
whenever they are secretly angry
and think you do not realize it
on the whole it seems more honest
than their usual, of writing reams of flowery love
which they have never exhibited toward me
because their natural jealousy was too much
in the way, or else that they were so busy
singing their own praise to high heaven
that mine went unspoken and unsung,
relegated to the dark furtive byways of their heart
along with all other such reminders
that they are still not the central hub
that the universe turns it's alleged somersaults around
and I'm only slightly cheered at the thought
of how copious the tears
they will enjoy shedding over my remains some day