S35

Just between you and me, Sister,
Will you marry me?
Most of it’s already done:
I know your nipples and that spot on your thigh,
You know my scar.
We own each other’s surfaces and holes,
Possess the mossy smell of baby teeth,
The place we store our secret words,
The sight of Daddy’s parts,
Mum’s breasts floating flatly in her bath
And the teardrops she washed from the chandelier.

Now I love our skin,
It’s texture of mirrors with a fading glaze,
Blue streams on the backs of our hands,
And I love our genetic compulsions
For earliness, lists, silence and scorn.
And I love our disputes, a rush of ire,
A skip of the heart and a quick peace.

We could let the brothers in once in a while,
And the life we’ve left might be worth discussing.
But we’ve plighted our troth.
Let’s elope.


JWBRogers