For my mum

Bound by my hands
these old lines
wind round and round,
traced over
and pressed through
A copy of you
plaited into the strands
of my skin.
I have tried
in anger
to untie, cut, burn and gnaw,
the knot.
Unbindable
It will not break.
Bringing each other
to the end of our tether,
We fray our anger
until understanding
twists the split ends
back together.

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