I implored my ancestor for a story.
Okay, okay: I wanted her story.
Okay, okay, okay: she is an unwilling, unwitting ancestor.
But I got it anyways:
although she denies that she ever had a child
or that this supposed child engendered a long line of descendents…
this line ends with me,
and I can gaze back at her
and see the never-cut cord
connecting her with her offspring…
she denies that the bastards even exist,
and so has never cut the ignored connection.
I see some descendents oblivious to their connection,
and yet still an unbroken stream of nutrition reaches me.
