The Joke

A white business card brandished at me:
"Do you know who this is?
Do you? Do you?"
And my mother's name in bright letters--
Something
Squeezes
Me.
A wire cord, twisted round the lungs,
My head, my arms, my knees, I feel
The blood pumping, pushing
At those knots which
Dam my veins.
Surely he jokes. You know
How he loves to tease remember
The name games he played
When you were a littlelittle girl?
Little no longer--
My sweet Cassandra
Pours truthpoison in my ear.
A revelation: "That's you! That's you!"
A marvelous joke. His laughter
Rings empty in my ears.
I am anointed the new Nancy E. Roth--
By some miracle of God
(or time, or madness, sings sweet Cassandra)
I have become my mother.
The knots
Twist
Tighter.
This is a torture more devious
Than anything the Inquisition designed.
My lips, my throat
Burn with the truth:
"Granddaughter, not daughter."
He roars at the joke
As if I were some trickster
Hiding in his daughter's shoes.
The cords pull up
The corners of my lips in fear--
I smile too often, these days--
A freezing facade of warmth.
The knots tighten, tighten
Around my heart.