David Dalton: ‘Great Aunts’

Great Aunts

Love at arm’s length—one step to the side, then
Diagonally down; approachable
With deference, their affections informed
By if Dad was a favourite nephew,
Or Mum that glib, unreliable girl,
Who’d led a gullible daughter astray.
Cigarette smoke and old-fashioned perfume
Swirled around us on entering the room;
Posing for photos after cheeks were kissed
(and the Cold Cream taste was wiped from our lips).
Predictable sightings were seasonal—
Christmas Day, and a New Year’s barbecue
At a second cousin’s house near Kingston,
Or maybe the beach, but you’d never see
A Great Aunt swim; instead they would sit, on
Fold-out chairs, in a curved sisterly line,
Chuckling and smiling at me as I passed:
“Haven’t you grown, David?” Consensus point—
Grand-nephews did, when summers divided
Grade X from Y. They died sporadically
Over three decades—Nan quite early on—
Counting down funeral by funeral
Until there were none. The clan chiselled them
Into legend but, without their binding
Power, it fragments at cousin-level;
Scattered across unfamiliar islands
We pocket our memories, and begin to build.

David Dalton