Hen and Mutt by David Milley

In matching chairs, two old women watched tv each night.
Henrietta browsed a book; Mutt did her crochet.
Volume turned low, each worked in her own light,
pausing, now and then, to chat the doings of their day.

Our favorite aunt, Henrietta stood taller than our Mom.
Above a sea of holiday socks, Hen soared in, bearing planes,
a chemistry set, that special doll. In all her visits to our home,
Hen made her sister laugh, told stories of old times.

Mutt never came to see us; Mom, smiling, shook her head.

At the end of every night, two old women climbed the stairs.
Mutt went first, to light the way and warm their single bed.
Hen would close her book at last and rise to join Mutt there.

Each night, this way, for more than sixty years, until the day
Mutt came downstairs alone, kissed Hen, and put her book away.



Writing since the 1970s, David Milley's work has appeared in Painted Bride Quarterly, Christopher Street, and Bay Windows. David lives in New Jersey with his husband of four decades, Warren, who's worked as farmer, woodcutter, nurseryman, auctioneer, beekeeper, and cook. Nowadays, Warren gardens and keeps honeybees; David walks and writes.