What happens next. (poem) (The Aunt Joe Poems)

And then one day, you find you're falling, because you can't keep going the way your mother taught you: baths twice a week, meat in the ice box to stop ptomaine poisoning, tonic every night to keep your weight up, and scented oil kisses on your face to keep it nice like great Aunt Marietta's was the day she died. Little by little I fed everything to the smoking fires of Pittsburgh, and still they wanted more. But did Pittsburgh make me stop saying my prayers to God at night? Tumbling through darkness, I felt like Satan dwindling down and getting meaner as he fell. Wilfred and I moved into a rooming house, …