Sisters

Sisters

One shirt. Two shirt. Three shirt. Four. 
Her shirt? My shirt? We don’t even know anymore.
Night time. Right time. Bedtime. Girl talk.
The game is called “Where is the party?”
Her room? My room? Listen for the laugh.
One bed. Six heads. Topics may include
Boy talk. Girl talk. Dad talk. Hair talk.
Heart talk. Sex talk. Job talk. Fear talk.

Puzzles. Papers. And our all time fave,
Voices, actions, laughter, all from charades.
Wake Up. Early. White Moon. Black Moon. No moon.
Yawn. Hug. Talk. Tired. We retreat. Back to sleep.

Art fair. Cropped tops. Don’t care. Short hair.
Brown skin. We don’t fit in. And look at his hair.
We don’t. Look like. Where we. Come from.
But we. Come back. Check up. On Mom.

Mom cuts apples like the moon. 
We huddle around her as she cuts the fruit.
The oldest is 30. The youngest is 16.
But around Mom, what does age even mean?

Visit Dad.  Visit Dad. We’re one of his own.
We’re still not used to a different home.
We sing. We eat. We skip a beat.  
Visit Dad. We’re still one of his own.

Hiking. Yoga. Pickle ball & sunbathing.
Dog walking. Hair cutting. Sugar cravings.
Neilson’s Custard. Dixie Rock. 
Cafe Rio. Snow Canyon’s red chalk.

Then one by one, we get sucked back.
To worlds that keep us from looking back.
Two to Oregon. Two to California.
Two left.  Just two left that don’t belong.

Mom cuts apples like the moon.
I pack my bag. I’ll be back soon.




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