eight chain linked fences

your sister
holds a grudge against your father
for being born
small and premature.
it's fifty years
old, the grudge, but not stale,
or tattered
by the years.
instead she's kept it fresh
and new
with each retelling.
it's a strange tale
of how your mother hopped
eight chain
linked fences to go slap
a woman
your father had been seeing
on the sly.
at the time your mother was
carrying your sister
for six months,
still
in the womb, but yelling,
i'm sure even then
at the injustices of the world,
all aimed at her.