Claws of Rage

Auntie J must be dead now
though she was never my real auntie
only the lady next door
where we stayed on holiday
at the grand house by the sea

My parents left me in her charge
to go out dancing or to the pub
It was their treat to be together alone
They never noticed the cruel light
etched deep in Auntie's grey eyes
or felt the sharp shocks
welling red on my cheeks
as the hatred she carried
hissed out through clenched teeth

Maybe I was the child she never had
a reminder of the husband
she couldn't keep
bitter memories conspiring
to whisper inside her head
and I was just the catalyst
marshalling her pain

But I always wonder
how the cleanest white hands
could turn so quickly
into dirty claws of rage