Statues

How are we meant to survive

without Aunt. She was our bright

patch of clover in a confusing world,

she always let me get my way.

The smell of this new house disturbs me;

it is larger and airier and, in the corners,

there are menacing wooden statues

taller than me. This family must be

fabulously rich. I don’t really know

if I shall like it here.

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