The opposite of Olivia
a name falling
from a grandmother’s lips
a name floating
over a field of wildflowers
But you’re not listening, are you?
     never listen to Livvy
She’s harmless, you say
married to a dead-eyed man
with hair in his ears.
Offspring like a litter of puppies
Little brats, all of ’em
Not that Livvy notices
She’s too busy tatting her own doilies
Shocked by coarse language
     such talk, such talk
comfortable with blood
Chicken … beef
Blood pudding
She doesn’t like new things
got curtains made of gingham
her towels all match
No evidence she ever uses the toilet
hair always up
ham on Sundays
And let me tell you
she’ll shoot you dead
you take one more step
     are you listening to me?
I’m not kidding here.
     she will
     your shit
She’s already thinking ahead
supper on a tray table
in front of the teevee
doesn’t care for new ideas
     just you
That Olivia, bless her heart
     just try it
grows the biggest tomatoes
this side of the river
Doesn’t like new things

Did I mention she tats her own doilies?