dear sister

 

I cast my hands in the prisms of light

                      that draw shapes in the window

one summer bleeds into the next

                       and I am still in my old bedroom

                                                    I remember you, dear sister

I keep calling out to you

                      can't you hear me?

Papa always said I'd be alone

                        after he and Mama died

I forgot what the creases in your 

                        face look like, the way

your elbows fold into your

                        upper arms

                                        

                                                I am quick to forget you, dear sister

but not the way your nose

                        stands on your face like

a hill erect,

                        or the way your nails looked

when you pinched me:

                        blue polish bled into my skin

that you tore off

                                            I love you still, dear sister

I keep the paintings you've 

                         made me for my birthdays

locked somewhere in the drawer

                           I even found some of your diaries 

from when you were little,

                           the locks are still in place,

dust binds the spine of each book

                            but reading about Dedushka's death

reminds me of how much 

                           I cannot bear to lose you

                                            dear sister

the garden is still here

                            I keep up with the Mother's day plants

from last year

                            they're in the same part of the room

by the open window

                           where you used to dance when you were little

when you thought I wasn't

                           looking, but I was there

all along, freezing the memory

                            until the next time I would see your face