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