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