Monday, July 8, 2013

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.

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