Aunt Belle
She wasn't
Our aunt,
But the aunt
Of a friend
Who died.
After that
We corresponded
And every
Christmas
She sent
A box
Of gifts.
Linens that
Smelled of
Mothballs
And dust,
Odd bars
Of soap,
Strange
Perfume.
She had been
An entertainer,
Toured with
The USO,
Danced with
Ann Miller,
Been an MC
In a nightclub
Favored by
The Mafia
And dyed
Her hair
Crimson.
Like all
New Yorkers,
She dreamed
Of Florida,
And
Eventually,
Moved there.
In the
Last photo
We received,
She is leaning
Against the
Stucco of
Her house
In Del Ray Beach,
Propped there
By her maid,
Too frail
To stand alone.
When she died
Only her name
And the date
Of her death
Were engraved
On the stone,
So no one
Would ever
Know
How old
She really was.
She wasn't
Our aunt,
But the aunt
Of a friend
Who died.
After that
We corresponded
And every
Christmas
She sent
A box
Of gifts.
Linens that
Smelled of
Mothballs
And dust,
Odd bars
Of soap,
Strange
Perfume.
She had been
An entertainer,
Toured with
The USO,
Danced with
Ann Miller,
Been an MC
In a nightclub
Favored by
The Mafia
And dyed
Her hair
Crimson.
Like all
New Yorkers,
She dreamed
Of Florida,
And
Eventually,
Moved there.
In the
Last photo
We received,
She is leaning
Against the
Stucco of
Her house
In Del Ray Beach,
Propped there
By her maid,
Too frail
To stand alone.
When she died
Only her name
And the date
Of her death
Were engraved
On the stone,
So no one
Would ever
Know
How old
She really was.
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