POEM - MY FATHER'S GREAT AUNT BEATRICE

MY FATHER’S GREAT AUNT BEATRICE
there were many nights
at the dinner table of my youth
silent and hopeless
I sat in my chair
chewed my food
wondered what the hell it was all about
life, living, I mean
but if it ever got too quiet
like there wasn’t a spare word
my father would clear his throat and say,
“I used to have a great aunt,
her name was Beatrice.
She would cut her peas in half
with a knife and a fork.”
we’d all look at him
chew our food
and wonder what the hell it was all about