CAUGHT

I shift in my chair.

I’ve been sitting for too long.

Aunt Bee turns on the water

at the sink, her back to me.

I stand, thinking if I’m fast

and quiet enough,

I might sneak out

before she turns back around.

Finish your work, Paulie,

Aunt Bee says.

Her eyes fix on me.

I’ll do it later, I say,

inching closer to the door,

but she catches my hand.

Hers is small but strong.

Your mama doesn’t have time

to make sure you do your work,

Paulie, Aunt Bee says.

And Gran says you run wild

in those woods all day.

That’s why I’m here.

Sit down.

She sounds so much like Gran

that I sit back down.

Aunt Bee is nineteen years

older than my daddy.

She’s short and wide

and starting to gray,

but she still looks young

in the eyes.