Her dead mother and aunts hover.
She feels them hauling their baffled sense
and rosaries from room to room
as she shields another day doing
bills, errands, chores and childcare. They
shrug their shoulders, bewildered
that with six children, a flawed husband,
and extra body weight, she refuses to idle,
to be landlocked and insular. Her husband
and in-laws like her drive and organization.
She smiles inside, knowing her children like
her kindness and selflessness and that is
what she is casting. Not even the sun will daze
or stifle her, in fact, she will rise with it
and the power of saints
and do it all again, and again.