I didn't call my sister on her birthday,
not sure-- is she
fifteen or
fourteen?
What's my age and subtract
seven years.
Seven years before she came along,
seven years to wonder
if I hate my mom
or if everybody's mother sleeps on tires
with empty glass bottles with liquid like water
but smells like the rubbing
alcohol my older sister
used to clean out the scrapes on my knee because
mom was sleeping- now in the bed
but still in the same
open-mouthed distance.
She doesn't wake with the rain
or the sun or my tears-
I change my cry hoping a new
pitch or tempo will shake her
out of the sleep that gives her headaches.

No, I didn't call my sister,
too busy making myself someone
else's second choice.
we only do what has been done to us and
We do it best.

04/26/2008

Posted on 04/26/2008
Copyright © 2025 Melanie J Yarbrough