#kevin young

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Scenes from the Poetry Society of America Spring Benefit at the New York Botanical Garden; read the

Scenes from the Poetry Society of America Spring Benefit at the New York Botanical Garden; read the full-write up here!


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An afternoon with Kevin Young’s “Aunties” sounds awfully good right now. The poem, from his collecti

An afternoon with Kevin Young’s “Aunties” sounds awfully good right now. The poem, from his collection Dear Darkness, appears most recently in Blue Laws, a selected and uncollected gathering that is an essential tour of Young’s work.

Aunties

There’s a way a woman
         will not
relinquish

her pocketbook
         even pulled
onstage, or called up

to the pulpit—
         there’s a way only
your Auntie can make it

taste right—
         rice & gravy
is a meal

if my late Great Aunt
         Toota makes it—
Aunts cook like

there’s no tomorrow
         & they’re right.
Too hot

is how my Aunt Tuddie
         peppers everything,
her name given

by my father, four, seeing
         her smiling in her crib.
There’s a barrel

full of rainwater
         beside the house
that my infant father will fall

into, trying to see
         himself—the bottom—
& there’s his sister

Margie yanking him out
         by his hair grown long
as superstition. Never mind

the flyswatter they chase you
         round the house
& into the yard with

ready to whup the daylights
         out of you—
that’s only a threat—

Aunties will fix you
         potato salad
& save

you some. Godmothers,
         godsends,
Aunts smoke like

it’s going out of style—
         & it is—
make even gold

teeth look right, shining,
         saying I’ll be
John, with a sigh. Make way

out of no way—
         keep the key
to the scale that weighed

the cotton, the cane
         we raised more
than our share of—

If not them, then who
         will win heaven?
holding tight

to their pocketbooks
         at the pearly gates
just in case.

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