Later Aunt Beba will tell you
things about Elly: How she must
be close to a hundred, how she
was so beautiful when she was
young, she used to stop traffic, how
she has the mouth of a truck driver
and she always has. . . But now, you
stand with her at the dining table.
You didn’t expect company,
your hair still wet from the shower.
Elly gasps. (She hasn’t seen you
since you were seven.) She tells you
you have eyes like honey; she crosses
herself several times as she says this.
The two old women talk about you–
no, your beauty, like you’re not there.
You blush; you’re uncomfortable
and embarrassed. Elly turns to you
and says, “Beware of the mens.” You
say, “I know” and “. . .I know.” At sunset,
you go to the sea with the women.
You take down your top in the water
as they do, let breasts find light.