WHITE GLOVED AUNTY by Vicki Hill

 

Married seven times, her first was also her last
She touched up her make-up, who reflected in her mirrored past?
Then carefully seated her veil and hat
Then for a moment impatiently sat

Waiting for uncle whose actions were simpler
Always performed slower but without a whimper

She carefully pulled on crisp white gloves
As they drove to the country, home of her loves:
Her brother ‘s large family in a sardine-can house
Hardly room enough to add a mouse.

More children in daytime gathered there
Kissed good-bye by a working parent for all-day care

What she sought she discovered as tea was prepared
The white gloves skimmed each surface with precise care
Though 5 of 7 children had cleaned much the night before
They forgot dust atop pictures, lintels of doors.

With success achieved, she pulled gloves from fingers, hiding some glee
Ready to share “dirty” secrets with her man who gladly scanned the screen of TV.

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