I wish like
when we were girls
joined at the hip
possessing no cushion
to walk in your stead
same shoes, same size, different spread
yours narrow and delicate
mine bashed and mangled from running
we were used to walking alone in the rain
until we showed up for each other
I recall
how your neck always seemed long even as
neither of us are tall
perhaps the slope of your shoulders or the arch of your clavical
there are illusions and striations even in similars
this we discovered
you could roll a better joint in the dark
and I could stand on my hands and walk – unguided
the carnival rat and the singing mermaid
we grew up on French movies, smoking in the back seats
oblivious to the risk
of feeling everything
and now you are in another country, as am I
two foreign girls without roots trying to get by
I think of you as I think of my reflection and
if I had a sister, if I had a wife, if I had a child
all those emotions and more, embroiled in your fur
like the fox in the dawn
barking sharp and clear
I see you – a red flash – a dart of color against fog
thinking of all the songs we heard and made our own
you possess the key to my memories and my home
as if you were a bee, building a wax nest in a clarinet
you are 17 and your legs remind me of a colt
lean and muscled with no fat, you stand sharp against the ocean
spinning stories of Irish and Welsh, dreams in technicolor
something about your eyes
something in the way you fight without fighting
a strength beneath the quiet
like waves over waves over mouths
I cycled to your flat and we read feminist literature by candle light
those were the times when everything began
and now again we stop and start
clocks without hands without purpose
sometimes it feels like
there’s only the part where we wind and wind up
to no future
and then it begins over
the dance and the memories
unwinding like skirts of sand and ocean
I think of all the places you have seen without me
and how building a life apart we drift like sea weed
I don’t want to lose the link
the key, the way you fit in my heart like
a shell and I can
always hear the sound of waves
in your skirts as you bow your head
and we trip over ourselves to find
that moment of joy
among all the hurt
that’s how you know when you have
an imprint of someone else in your soul
carried on my back, in my chest
like a favorite toy or something deeper
a chant, a eulogy, a suspension of reality
that fusing of one with another over space and creation
when did it begin and when did it become
the stallegmite within me
with your hands encircled
I hear your voice as my own
sister, lover, mother, daughter, woman
the girl with sea in her eyes
I yearn for you
crossing places alone
walking streets without
my heart hurts to think
of us apart, separate, living despite
some of us should be together
I hear you say
yes
like she would say
like the song of songs
and you know, yes,
you have always
known