My uncle doesn't like my family.
Every call is a short click then a long black silence reminding me of the sea at night, just not as beautiful.

My aunt pretends not to notice,
So now her car is an ashtray and she works a lot.
Public displays of affection sans hand holding and soft kisses,
The cracks in her bottom lip could **** a man.

My aunt is strong, like a grandparent's house that I remember being pushed down the stairs in.

My uncle doesn't like my aunt's parents,
The grumpy Italian man with depression and aching knees and
The sweet little woman with short gray hair who doesn't remember me anymore.
"Who are all these children?", she whispers to my mother.

My aunt pretends not to notice,
And she is strong, she is strong, she is strong,
But I think she is losing herself to the ocean,
And it's not as beautiful as it sounds.