Nora’s Daughter


Aron tolerated her life.
This is what putting on a brave face looks like.
Finding the luck inside of busy work,
Held together by events on a physical timeline.
The demolition of an American Dream.
For Aron, a tomb of strangers taunting her mind and woes.
.
Once a day, her husband returns home, 5:15 evening.
He thrives inside of a household marked by silence,
And lack of informed opinion.
Dust lining her old plays and sons middle school text books.
How unfortunate, for she doesn’t have the time to help her child
Understand applicable algorithms.
Fancy magic, pretty lines that require a ruler to draw.
Not giving a second thought
To a life robbed by her own ignorance.
.
That fancy magic haunts her, only to be waved
Away with the flick of a hand needed for drying dishes
And the crunching gravel of her husbands vintage corolla pulling up.
.
Grown beneath a fearful woman’s shadow,
Much like her own.
Aron Finally sees the Time in her life To break.
It’s already passed.

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