THE HOUSE & AUNT MILDRED
THE HOUSE & AUNT MILDRED
The blank stare that only
a house can give,
the gawk of
shut windows, with half closed
blinds,
the peel of paint,
and that toothy front porch
smile, reminiscent of the kind that
Aunt Mildred
gives you as
she pinch’s your cheek ,
all the while breathing stale
cigarette smoke and coffee breath
over you
like warm mud.
Soon the room starts to spin
as the vortex of the house closes in.
Mother’s, bizarre chatter,
about how Aunt Mildred
could attract a
fellow,
with the simple use
of a
wide brimmed hat,
and a
flowered summers dress.
I watched in amazement
as Aunt Mildred melted
into the house,
mother taking her
place and, I;
I become mother.
Houses are like that,
Jealous of their masters ,
each in their own peculiar way.
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