Tuesday, February 24, 2009

My sister

Was she once a child?
Beguiled by life in a romance novel
making her aware of what a woman could be,
what a woman could want.
Made parental at 10 to resent her lot
and so not taking it too seriously.
Placed on her the touch of a man at four
to frighten her burgeoning youth to be leery
of alone time with the familiar and trusted.
Was she once a child?
Carefree and unconditionally loved
recalled so much in novels she once read
rested bitter in her head.
Memories of responsibilities inappropriate for 10,
dinner by 6, dishes too, keep him out of trouble, no hitting please
and for him just “listen to your sister.”
Memories all now a whisper
in her adult life of professional responsibilities
with thank you’s duly noted.
Was she once a child?
Was she ever young enough to be self indulgent,
at ease and never alone?
Suicidal then counseled, divorced and rebounding,
he got the house but she wanted the couch.
A legacy on the make to take her where she has always been going.

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