Oil and water, mixed poorly from birth,
At peace at the opposite ends of the
earth:
The one's hopes map well to the other
one's fears,
and though peaceably separate for miles
and years,
The one misses the other in spite of
the pain
Of deliberate friction with nothing to
gain
and the other is creeping toward
missing the one,
toward regret for his being an
unpleasant son.
It occurs, in this Janus, to this
lingering other:
This year's one to make peace between
child and mother.
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