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Battle
by Nancy Scott

Perfectly matched, my parents never underestimated
each other, never turned away to lick wounds
inflicted by the other's rapier tongue.
Late night fights could be heard blocks away.

My grandmother, who went with them
on their honeymoon in an open touring car in 1931
from Chicago to LA, said, I never understood
why they got married, they argued the whole time.


After twenty-five years, Dad finally walked out,
but a glitch in the law prevented divorce.
With his ragged heart barely pumping, he paraded
his mistress. Only by his dying

was Mother victorious. At his funeral, she played
The Grieving Widow, counted cars in the cortege,
noted who came back to her house
to eat and remember him
spoils of a lifetime at war.

Years later, bedridden with a stroke, she confided,
Your father visited me again last night.
We've never stopped loving each other.

 


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