It was like landing on a pillow, our feet softly rooted in the silk sand,
horizon that reached until the end of the earth. We were like lizards.
Nothing could make us leave until the sinking, the last spot of sun.

you

I so miss

my spot in your bed,

our early mornings, late mornings,

me sneaking out for a run

then coming back to your sleeping legs around me

and the way the wind comes through the windows

and turns the chestnut tree leaves around

in front of the house.

People are starting to walk by

with their dogs and coffees.

They have no idea how much is happening

inside our little womb.

How many little kisses

we breathe

then miss

as soon as they’re gone.

sister

You were always a willing accomplice.

You taught me how to be a mermaid when I swam,

how to crocodile my feet in bed to keep me safe,

how to get rid of the ghosts behind the door.

Later, when I had no door, we made a bed on your floor

and I camped out,

and the laughter was our door,

an indestructible castle wall.

I watch you now, a bit behind you.

I watch the way you run, and climb.

You’ll never run fast enough to get away.

You can’t climb away from you.