Sister

The thing to remember is
She's young; so young
And she's sitting on her flowered quilt
And mom's voice is ice
And she's saying "consequences,
There must be consequences."

Second grade she brought home a sunflower,
watered it daily
Until it doubled her in height.
Standing side by side,
they had the same round smile

And sometimes mom just cries
And asks why, why
Is it because you are young,
Because you have brown
eyes like your father?
And she sighs indifference,
Heaping shame on moms shoulders
Relentless

I took to calling my sister a freak
she's just a little girl who wants to be me,
But I am four walls, no door and no window
My disappointment consumes her
Sometimes I forget we are kin

But her eyes and mine, they're brown
And her sunflower smile, its
Pulled tight against my bones,
like muscle
Like skin.

When mom and her fight, I wince.
Why should my right hand tear at my left?