the shrug,
one shoulder raised
a twist of the mouth
a hard crooked line
everything said
it sufficed
i never saw one of them cry
my mother, her mother,
my mothers aunts,
all had eyes that were dry
no funeral tears from them
over the years
the shrug passed on
mother to daughter
that’s life, so what,
suck it up
no point crying over spilled milk
they said
in denial of sadness
hiding their dread
leaving tears to be shed by old men
as the puddles spread on the floor