They’re all gone now,
all the aunts and uncles
who bored me so at family dinners:
Uncle Armand who chewed so loud
and told bad jokes,
Aunt Millie with hair like a burning bush
and whose lipstick ran when she ate.
Now my mother,
the beauty,
has joined them,
she of the many husbands
and lovers,
one of whom was the father
I barely knew;
and my Grandma Sarah,
breasts like feather pillows
I used to cuddle up to
on sleepovers,
gone long before.
Now I have all their pictures,
some in frames,
others just leaning against the wall
on my bedside table.
They visit me in dreams.
By Barbara Wolf (2003)
[Published in 2003 by the Bainbridge Island Arts & Humanities Council, this was posted in the windows of town businesses.
- RocksWorks]
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2 comments:
We hope to have some photos from the life and family of Barbara Wolf. Coming soon.
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Friend & associate, Sandra, during a poetry workshop, wrote of this: "Warm ~ I feel like your memories are now treasures".
- RocksWorks
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