Sisters, Afternoon in September

19 Sep

late afternoon sunlight, fall sunlight

pours through our windows like water

your eyes to slits, you ask for sunglasses

I remind you the warm room is filled with

instances free of light.


Between the two of you

battles, Spartans, Celts, Afghans

wage on, small things

that crayon, that page

the very existence of a sister

you scream until your voices


drive me to fond memories of

drunken nights under stars, my

head spinning, casual smile

plastered across me as

my hand would reach for someone else.

The chaos in my head then

was so much simpler now.


Pink. You all wear pink.

Small sister, beggar sister

shining eyes at older

desperate, wanting.

The light doesn’t dazzle you

doesn’t stall you,

screeching fishwife of a child.

Your universe starts, ends

at your stubby footprint.


Brown eyes on pink. Brown eyes

wide eyed at me, towards me

full of me, eating of me

asking for my past

my memory, things shared for meaning

then forgotten.

Wide eyes in the afternoon

clarity of a season ending.

3 Responses to “Sisters, Afternoon in September”

  1. Helen September 19, 2008 at 4:54 pm #

    Thordora, I’ve got to ask you: are those last two lines inspired by a T.S. Eliot poem? I don’t remember the title, but the last line went something like: “Thoughts of a dry brain in a dry season.”

    Sweet and lovely poem.

  2. thordora September 19, 2008 at 5:45 pm #

    No, but TS Eliot is a favorite, despite all the repressed male idiocy. 😛

  3. Julie Pippert September 21, 2008 at 12:10 pm #

    How lovely.

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