SISTER

Of you, by you, for you. Thank God, I am obliging. How should I know what incompleteness feels like? When will you answer me? How should I express this to you? Through another handsome letter? By fighting against myself? My soul? Your soul? I couldn’t care less about telling them apart. What I care about is you so long ago, the light coming through your open window and the freckles on the back of your thigh; the sense that life was ending soon and we would meet our fate.