Mothering Martha and Mary

Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself?

—Luke 10:38–42

Daughters are like that, bickering.

One has done something. The other did it first.

One steals the other’s pants and swings them

over her head. The other screeches.

One demolishes the bedroom

while the other weeps in the top bunk.

The tears have something to do with Silly Putty.

One makes faces naked in the bathroom mirror

to prevent the other from brushing her teeth.

One punches the other in the face

while she is sitting on the toilet. Crying,

they tattle. Shouting, they tattle.

Jesus Christ, I say, knock it off.

Jesus Christ, I say,

you were wrong.

I saw Mary sitting there

at your feet,

blinking her lashes,

baiting her sister,

and you let her

get away with it.