Auntie Molly

Sometime in my late childhood
I am taken to see Auntie Molly
My father whispers before we go in,
Play yer cards right
And she may leave us
Something in her will

Auntie Molly is small
She has my father's tightly-curled hair
For she is his father's only sister.
Her face is all pink with hives
She has shingles, which she says
Is very painful, especially the headaches.

Auntie Molly is perceptive and wise
She notices that I am quiet
As if that were a bad thing
Auntie Molly is practical and kind
The photo of dead Uncle in his Army uniform
Hangs sadly above the rich mantlepiece

She tells me about a dream that she has had.
Little soldiers with swollen heads
Keep coming and coming
Not threatening, but just staying there.
She says, what does this mean?
She asks me to interpret!

I say, the soldiers are the germs
The ones that are giving you the headaches.
She says, am I going to die
I say, well, they are not threatening
She says, am I going to get better
I say, well, they're not going away

My father is displeased
Auntie Molly unsatisfied
But she gives me a little bracelet
Before we leave

She dies a month later
I don't know the cause
And she leaves my father
A thousand pounds in her will