Growing Up # 1

When Grandfather died
we breathed
life into his house
for one last night.

Being a head or two
below adult concern
I wandered the rooms,
sad but surrounded
expecting to see him again
tomorrow.

In the hallway
I could smell the cigarettes and old coats
that made him just around the corner
and felt at last,
alone as he had been.

To hide the birth
of the first tear
I swung open the bathroom door
and took a step inside. 

There, with toweled head
was Aunty Anne,
one leg perched high
on the bath for drying.

As she straightened
her large breasts stayed down,
then reached for the sky.

I ran.

Later that night,
remembering the house,
the hollowed rooms,
the cigarettes and old coats in the hallway,
I cried for the passing of my grandfather

then thought of Aunty Anne.