Heir to a Throne of Ice

January 5, 2009
By Alex Kaufman, Great Neck, NY

She sits in her chair,
Bitterly smoking a cigarette
With frozen cold lips
Casting an arctic glaze towards the child

“Come over here” she calls to the teenager,
Pretending to care,
She can’t even fake it.
Why do I even waste this Ink
On her?

She dismisses her relatives
With mendacious niceties,
Pushing her family aside
To dig her enemies into the dirt

How can she treat her relatives
With such apathy, such
Loathing? Does she know human emotions?
The adult begins to wonder whether
They really are family at all
Or whether she was switched at grandparenthood.


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