Daughter's Villanelle

At the old Tracy cemetery you made me lie,
left to the side when your mother died
and yet from her ashes I rise to the sky.

I couldn't bring myself to cry
during false eulogies from your family's side.
At the old Tracy cemetery you made me lie.

You reflect cruelty like those gilt mirrors you hang high,
inbred anger, self centered, you claw for words I can't abide
and yet from those ashes I rise to the sky.

With sun bearing down we arrive, you and I
to stare down her grave marker with your hand on my side.
At the old Tracy cemetery you made me lie.

Cast into the fire, her remains reduce as we say bye.
She's all gone now and safe in her plain metal box, though she tried
and yet from those ashes I rise to the sky.

Laid over her plot I feel my skin fry.
We are wreckage, smoking, her on her graveside.
At the old Tracy cemetery you make me lie
and yet from our ashes I rise to the sky.