Aunt with Cigar

I had an aunt who smoked cigars.
I don’t know if she did it once
running out of Marlboro Kings
on Christmas Day. Or if

it was a habit donned
to taunt her husband in some
unusual way. One puff could seal
a reputation. Hanging from her lips

with that unsmitten look, seemed
to mock all of us at first. As if
one of Ruben’s women had vaulted
golden frames to assail

the artist with her not so
slender fist, then inhale
exhale in the docile way
that she had been portrayed.