It's Still Life

Badder and Badder

She drowned in a floral-scented bath,
my broad-smiling, drunk auntie who
loved to dance – her little feet were
as light as popped corn, but

my broad-smiling, drunk auntie
was drawn to ugly old men
with their callused-hand glances.
The bad ones, she said, just get
badder and badder.

Note: This is total fiction. for AprPAD Day 8 “Family”

It’s National Poetry Writing Month, which explains the surge in activity. I’m following three different sites generating daily prompts. Writers’ Digest Poetic Asides, the National Poetry Writing Month website (NaPoWriMo) and my old friend, Walt, over at Gnomes. All of these pieces are drafts.