Arts + Scene » Poetry

My Crazy Auntie



Is preparing a meal,
Whipping up stuff
That no one wants.

Flour is flying,
Grease is spilling
And we all avoid her.

Memories aren't always
Warrants of affection
Or kind testimonials,

Sometimes they just
Break our hearts
And settle nothing.

I hear her voice
And see her face
Behind the mirror

That hides the Tums.

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