Ode to My Aunts Kat Mullins ‘20
Oh, The Big Knuckled Women Whose breasts drag from their collar bones Whose bones ache and creek like rocking chairs Praise be to ever brewing coffee pots To margarine butter and near death experiences Raise high an aged and barren womb That is tired of bringing forth fruit and so Pits the peaches and packs them in cans For next year’s fresh bread mornings May there always be a footstool for your bunioned feet A kid to do your dishes and then disappear Glory be to the crow’s feet at the corners of your eyes That watched baby’s progress from cradle to grave May we not strive for eternal youth but quick descent :LWK JUDFH DQG ÁDEE\ QHFNV DQG VDOW DQG SHSSHU KDLU Hallowed are the mothers who wept At the death of their mothers and brothers and children The gutted and hitched breath of an aching chest From too many cigarettes Blessed are the thin-lipped loud-mouthed aunts Whose sharp words cut card decks and banish platitudes With the shaking out of their dusty rug tongues, teeth white and fake And old tales of dead dogs sitting around kitchen tables Pray to aunt Marian and Muriel To grandma Katherine and Cheryl When your white shirt is stained beyond repair Pray for low electric bills and that your jelly will set May the ladies of dust and baby lotion heed our prayer Ah, Ah, Amen 31
