Torn between the voices

This was the last thing I painted 

During my birthday week at the studio; 

I was mostly just using up leftover paint 

On a canvas I had begun to think was cursed; 

I had lost count of all the failed paintings 

I had tried to paint on it. 

Not caring any more if it was salvageable, 

I used it to demonstrate how calligraphy brushes 

Can make an alphabet look Asian,

When my daughter arrived and said she loved it, 

Even as I was thinking 

How much my mother would have hated it: 

Too much symmetry for her taste. 

And I? How do I feel about it? 

I no longer know: I’m torn between the voices.