Sixty-Five — Summary

In nine short lines, Risa Bear’s speaker makes a quiet, painful admission. For years, they have defended someone—a parent, partner, or friend—and blamed themselves instead. The word “still” says it all: this is an old pattern, not a new conflict. Then the poem turns. “I should extend / such courtesy / to the living” suggests that all this loyalty and forgiveness may have been spent on a person who is gone, absent, or no longer able to receive it. Meanwhile, the living—including the speaker—have been denied that same kindness. The title hints that this realization comes late, with age and distance. The mood is rueful rather than angry, weary rather than dramatic. There is no resolution, only a sharp recognition of a long-held habit and the regret of having misplaced so much care.