Auntie

Avondale Kendja

Credit: Annie Spratt

it’s noted: all keep a savior, one of them the emigrated black auntie

she withdraws into her sodden chest, where her protests

were swept by prickles (from overangered sisters) seeking her open, 

bleeding dream nestling hot, like it was just born as soon as

she brought herself through the tight borders.

they never enter, though. they’d have to bring reasons for the

mock invasion. instead they infuse their heat as if

to nourish that dream, when all-around metal clanks about

the wrists in place of warmth. “ah, she’s grown too complacent; where

Will she work?”

truly, she’s always, for a long time, for 

some time, a more private life--or maybe just one her own, under

a higher poverty line with less relatives to work for. she has

a life here, but the cost is her thin mask of a face,

and a worn body that will earn her keep

time to time, that dream nudges her awake - drives

her to really continue to succeed - as to be