At the Family Reunion

At the family reunion
Aunt Agnes sits
across from me
swilling her pilsener
and asking the time.

She bums cigarettes
from Uncle Al
to wear in her
chiselled lips–
her death-mask face
of granite bone.

Reptilian eyes
size us up as prey
in the smoke-filled kitchen.
She laughs at jokes
that are not really funny
and scares the hell
out of me.

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