Magpie Eye 

My mother had a willingness to lie for us
surpassed only by a willingness to lie
to us she kept a magpie eye and fussed
squawking what so much I never asked her why
 
And we are not the kind (she said it without blinking
to demonstrate that I was never a part)
to say just what it is that we are thinking
(I’d been doing that right from the very start)
 
I’d later turn her lessons back on her tenfold
but only with my hands up in defeat
I never once did just what I was told
no worthier foe did I perchance to meet 
 
She gave until the giving turned to hate
dragged off by dad to Queensland to recover
with humidity the hatred did abate
or at least became an inaudible mutter
 
We’re better now she’s old and I am older
I’ve learnt to keep my mouth shut half the time
the other half she sulks and strops and smolders 
wonders why I can’t perfect this pantomime
 
Forgiveness is at first a peculiar sense
standing in the corner watching conversations
the past vivified by some present turn of events
she always supposed I understood the expectations!
 
My mother’s hands got dirtiest with love and trust
the cruelty left small smudges here and there
but what she did unkind she did for us
and what was done to her was never fair