Dear Sister, Part III

Dear Sister,

She doesn’t know

the strength with which she reads aloud
the focus she pulls when she sings
the invitation to join her when she starts to dance.

She doesn’t know

the poetry in the way she curls her hair
the way she pulls on her thoughts like gloves
and grasps my frozen fingers.

She doesn’t know

the answers to all my questions
the x I offer to all her equations
the tomorrow she hopes today will bring.

She doesn’t know

the way to be anyone else

She doesn’t know

how else to be.


Talk at me while I eat

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