Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Your Sister
Each night we forced your sister
upstairs to her bedroom
before she was tired.
Then, on your living room rug,
my pants around my ankles,
your shorts & underwear
crumpled at your feet,
the television masking our sounds,
we got lost in our discoveries.
Years after we finished
I met your sister again,
her complexion gone bad,
her hair disheveled, she looked
& acted as if she’d become
crazy from lack of sleep.
Labels: poem
