Leaving Her (Written November 27)

Leaving Her

 

That is her way, and I wish

I were rid of her. The scales

Have tipped. What was a minor

 

Irritant now colors everything.

She always has to have the final

word, the more informed

 

Point of view. In any argument

She has to come out on top. Deformed

As her facts might be, she can admit

 

Nothing that might undermine

Her case. I can either submit

Or incur her wrath and her scorn.

 

It’s no good to search afterwards

And find I was right. She was born

To privilege, and learned at an early age

 

That what mattered was her opinion,

And that of her superiors. Mock sage,

She tries to convince me that what I know

 

Is worthless. Where we used to have a healthy

Exchange of ideas we now have a blow-by-blow,

Bloody boxing match where both of us stumble and fail.

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