The little criticisms

"What shall he criticize
This time?"--her empty smile
Reading like a scar.
I smile back, resenting
That she must bring up
This bitter truth about these
Little criticisms.
Must I, too,
Look upon my grandfather
As an enemy?
I learned to live
With his petty power plays
A long time ago;
She, perhaps,
Has lived with it too long--
Things become queer
When "family" becomes "enemy."
Her anger spills over
And floods the rest of us
With her pain.
And so we find
Such conversations like this:
"What shall he criticize
This time?" This time
It will be my hair.
I don't mind so; I know
His love, his praise
Outweigh the little criticisms.
And now, as he
Rots away to nothing these
Little criticisms
Become old habits, performed mechanically
Without thought, meaning, or purpose.
I've learned to bear
The little criticisms.