For read. write. poem. this week, the prompt was “aunts.” When I spoke with my mom this week, she told me that my great aunt Crystal turns 98 this week, so she was going to visit her. I probably haven’t seen her in 10 years or so, but I immediately flashed on the memory below. 

Visiting Crystal

She had the husband with the cauliflowered ear,
and an ash brown buzz cut, tight
around his lumpy, curled flesh. She wore thick

high heels, tight polyester slacks, and turquoise
eye shadow layered over crepe paper lids.
She always gave me Jean Nate for Christmas

powder and parfum, exotic to an eight year old. I hugged
around her neck, her red curls brushed across my cheek.
The one time I visited her cramped house in Berkley,

Mom dropped me off early. I wandered, peered
at photographs from the ‘40’s, pushed open doors
and peered inside. On an oak dresser, a faceless

plastic head was smothered by flame
red curls. Crystal was half dressed
and her white camisole matched the sparse white strands

haloed around her head. She smiled, red lips
stretched broadly, covered her fragile skull
and asked, “Well kid, what are we doing today?”