The day Auntie boiled over, there was a wind blowing.
The sky was smoky and the sun was orange,
And her steam rose up like a genie,
Sardonic and terrible, and it looked about itself
And then breathed out all her frustration and sorrow
And the wind carried it all the way to the palace
And the laughter of the cruel ones died on their lips
And the cups fell from their hands
And the silence that followed was like the ebb of a tsunami.
It was like the moment of waking from a nightmare.
