February 10

February 10

My sister crept down to visit me
from the floor above. She has no hips
so she has to hold her legs with her
hands. When she lets go, sometimes they fall
over, and she can't pick them up. This is why
she hates being introduced.

We shared toast; I took the crusts, she
the crumbs. We played board games
though we lacked most of the pieces
and had to use thimbles. We filled them
with pinkie fingers from the schizos
down the hall (who've been crying
about their extra pinkies for weeks).

We never spoke of father's mysterious
disappearance researching butterflies
on the Isle de la Fuerte, the sounds
of mother's screams that still echo
through the walls after she bricked
herself inside when father never arrived
that day with her laundry, or the splashing
of my goldfish cousin Ernie ate that Thanksgiving
when he had too many deviled eggs.


CL Bledsoe

Posted over on Clockwise Cat