Jan Hansen Poet Blank verse

My Aunt

My Auntie

When he entered his aunt’s basement flat
I had been in the yard when she called me in
she squatted over a bucket of water, cleaning her fanny
I handed her a towel and a bottle of spray cologne 
My aunt was not like other aunts took no interest
In knitting woolly socks for African children
She was a free spirit and loved men, but she preferred 
Teutonic men and disliked the Latin types, except once
When we children brought home a black cook from
A banana ship; he spent two nights in her bed but looked
pale when the captain came to fetch him.
Once, after the war, she sat on a leafy tree for three days
when a band of righteous men went looking for and rape 
women who had been friendly to the Germans.
Once, on a bus tour to Germany, she visited her former lovers 
who, by now, had grandchildren; I don’t think their wives liked her visit. 
When she moved to a roomier home, I liked nothing better
then on Sundays, sit in her kitchen, eat pepper cakes
drink coffee and smoke cigarettes.

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