I have a maiden aunt inside,
her world wrapped up in me,
the niece with great potential.
She barges into lines, unafraid
to push ahead for my security,
has snide remarks for all the other girls
and makes sure I go first.
Her vicarious love
has pushed me onto stages
and curled my hair and whispered words
that sound a lot like praise,
encouraging my extra effort;
has dragged me by the hand
off my couch
to see the world and be something.
Without her bustling confidence in me
I might never have moved,
lost in the rhapsodies of childhood.
And now, thank god, she is weak
… she needs my gentle thanks,
my listening to her grief,
my caring hand to tuck her into bed
and watch her die.