An Aunties Wedding

An Aunties Wedding There was an empty Players box flattened beneath the dancers a scent of receding tide on the quay swept, green, slick as hair oil bound by ginger sideburns your dress shaped like a rocket to the moon a wigwam to play in days before the day I was five in a white wool suit bony kneed refused to board her train or travel the cold tiled floor to her shining altar I bet she never noticed the tramps outside the door or your sisters child that day now you are chatteringly old – still unhappy I met you last Saturday a little boy from nineteen sixty four