DLD to DD July 27th, 2012
anemic, broken, and growing up anywaywhen my sister was five, she dictated a letter to me in her strong little voice
while dust drifted in the sunshine
of our creaky old room.
dear me [she said],
barney is the best. i will wear blue all the time even though i'm a girl. my heart beats without me telling it to and that's pretty cool. i think people always feel better if you tell them you love them. i will always smile because i have dimples when i smile.
"did you write it?" she asked, and i told her i did, every word
with the chunky yellow pencil i'd fished out of my school bag.
i handed her the letter, and she folded it up carefully
and she smiled.
when my sister was fifteen, she was a little bit broken
anemic and pale, with unsure hair and shaky hands.
when i came home to visit she whispered to me that
she didn't understand
and when i asked her what she didn't understand, she said
she wrote another letter that night.
dear me [it said],
this isn't a suicide note. this isn't another angsty poem. this
Forever LoyalHe saw her coming out of the deli, she smelled like blood-sick and old wounds hiding under her last pair of clothes that didn't have tears in them. He went to her and introduced himself. She gave him a sausage. It was love.
He followed her for the rest of the day, ears pricked forward as he listened to her talk. It was funny how that made her happy. She would say "Piston, sit." And he would sit, stump where his tail should be wagging as she pet him with pale fingers. When she did that, he knew she wasn't blood-sick, she was food for others who were and they nipped at her like he sometimes nipped at the heels of children when they tried to stray into traffic. He could smell it all over her, the ghost of blood-sick hands but he knew they weren't trying to help her, they would kill her.
He barked, to try to tell her this but all she did was give him another sausage and coo, her messy brown hair getting in his eyes as she bent down and pressed her forehead against his, eyes closed. He lear