• "Lay on your back sis."

    Your breath was dull like box-flavored wine--
    cheap, sticky, and over-powering.
    You licked along my collar
    and if my skin was sand
    then it would turn to glass
    from the contact of that flaming touch.

    Unclear and wrinkled as the pink ligament
    traces through the cracks and the caverns.
    You 'entered' and I closed my eyes
    escaping to somewhere far-away,
    crashing through a window of reality
    and lassoing a curled moon
    but I pray that the rope doesn't unravel;
    falling back into orbit would hurt.

    I still want to pretend that the pain
    between my legs is just my menstrual cycle.
    Instead it's my twin brother
    ******** me.

    It was like God gave you a date-rape drug,
    sluggish off that rage that coursed through you.
    I still wondered what happened
    to the shy boy of 14, holding my hand
    when Mama used the hammer
    on my slightly pregnant belly.

    When a fetus was dying
    between my legs --
    your eyes were like tomorrow's sky,
    never knowing what the forecast of your sanity would be.
    I wish I could have thrown you
    a straight-jacket to bind your mouth,
    for instead of the 'I love you,'
    remark I wanted so badly.

    You replied,
    "Better you, than me."