Today, I mourn my sister
Shy a year
after she put down one coast
to pick up another,
step into new flesh,
blow air into her fresh start
in California with me —
she left my life.
I didn’t hear the pop
before she tiptoed out.
I lost her scent. She was gone,
for good, as it turned out.
Her soft breath evaporated like mist,
a last drop of perfume
at bottle’s end.
Lost lover, my precious one, sweet sister,
who dared spill secret nectar
into my cup.
That day she unzipped her past from memory,
slammed the door on my love,
turned me into a scoundrel I wasn’t.
Told her kids I was bad,
I guess. Didn’t tell me why
she had to go she stayed in my heart,
in my town as a ghost.
Today, I mourn my sister
She tiptoed out of her earthly skin.
Didn’t tell me why
she had to go,
spirited aboard
a glory-bound balloon,
fledged into the warm flutter
of Mother Sky.
Tomorrow, I mend myself
the little sister who lives in me.
I will reach for her hand,
settle a shawl around her shoulders,
spill my secrets,
tell her everything I didn’t couldn’t
when her flesh was awake and juicy