NaPoWriMo 9
In the Company of Women
When a woman you barely know
takes a tissue out of her purse
to wipe your child’s drippy nose,
you must refer to her as aunt,
even if she’s not.
Not related by blood
or proximity, she can be
more family than friend,
more friend than
your only sister.
She’s the one
who sends gifts in the mail,
oversized boxes wrapped
in brown butcher’s paper.
When unwrapped,
each present smells
of the sweet powder
you remember from childhood.
She teaches you
how to crack an egg
into two perfect halves,
how to make icing from scratch,
and fold T-shirts to look
as if they were never worn.
Older, wiser,
she’s never been married
always coming and going,
refuses to stay too long
in any one place.
And in the long crossword puzzle
of marriage, when you can’t help
but find new combinations of hurt,
she sits will you at the kitchen table
while you cry with the onions.
When the kids come in from outside play
asking, “What are you two drinking?”
She says “We’re sipping lemonade,”
when what you really have
is something much stronger.
When a woman you barely know
takes a tissue out of her purse
to wipe your child’s drippy nose,
you must refer to her as aunt,
even if she’s not.
Not related by blood
or proximity, she can be
more family than friend,
more friend than
your only sister.
She’s the one
who sends gifts in the mail,
oversized boxes wrapped
in brown butcher’s paper.
When unwrapped,
each present smells
of the sweet powder
you remember from childhood.
She teaches you
how to crack an egg
into two perfect halves,
how to make icing from scratch,
and fold T-shirts to look
as if they were never worn.
Older, wiser,
she’s never been married
always coming and going,
refuses to stay too long
in any one place.
And in the long crossword puzzle
of marriage, when you can’t help
but find new combinations of hurt,
she sits will you at the kitchen table
while you cry with the onions.
When the kids come in from outside play
asking, “What are you two drinking?”
She says “We’re sipping lemonade,”
when what you really have
is something much stronger.
Comments
Now I'm off to read your RWP post.
don't scrap the whole thing. there are a few stories in here worth telling.
the only thing it might need - IF and only IF you think you have to tinker with it - is maybe somehow linking her single & motherless status to your (narrator's) status as mother. it might give the onion lines a wee bit more zing and the whole thing a bit of narrative heft. but seriously, great poem.