Fallout (Crank 3)

Grandfather offers the toast.

To Cora and Liam, and to two

lives together as one.

Who knew he was a poet?

As we clink-and-drink, I offer

my own silent toast to Bryce,

me, and new directions.

The champagne goes down

like a froth of hope. Aunt Cora

refills our glasses, but I’m already

feeling a bit on the “sparkly” side.

My brain fuzzes with thoughts

of the afternoon, and when I catch

Grandfather talking about the relative

merits of orchids versus roses,

I laugh. Inappropriately. Aunt

Cora looks at me. Really looks

at me, head cocked like a pup

at a whistle. Come here a minute.

SHE PULLS ME INTO THE HALL

Thinks a second, then yanks me

all the way into her bedroom.

Okay, give. What’s up with you?

My throat goes thick and my fingers

numb. “What do you mean?”

Your aura. It’s like … ruby.

Oh my God. Freaking gypsy aunt.

“Um …” Can’t confess. “I, uh …”

You’re in love. Who is he?

She’s like a little kid at a pony ride.