by Guillermo Filice Castro
let your aunt amble in
looking as she did in her 50’s
let her return to the front patio
of the house she never owned but loved
let her talk about past holidays
tables filled with cider and panettone
let her say nothing as you watch her
bob cut reach stillness in the light
and do not kid yourself
you can order her an Uber
as you are a kid yourself
with no money or smart phone
so when the time comes
walk her to the old Olivos station
let her climb into the dining car
settle into a creaking straw seat
let the cold sting you
with its perfume
let the little girl suddenly at your side
on the platform
grab your hand and tell you
I’m your sister