Sister - flipside B - Barbara LM Handley

Sister

a life in 9 parts
as seen by her brother

12/09/51

Mommy's tummy is
so big. You're almost
here. I want you to come
play with me.

Today at school, I made
a paper stocking
for you. Santa's coming soon.
Mommy said he'll bring toys for you.

I hope you're a girl, 'cause Mommy
says we'll name you Sharon, and I
think one boy is enough.

07/16/68

Your bikini drips low
across your
ass, and young men
follow you
to water. They look
hungry. You might be
ice cream or a grilled
hot dog. I know
what they see: your
manikin-perfect
body flirting with
yellow spandex.
I see it,
too. I've never
considered incest.
Beach-grime frosts
your legs and waves
cut angles over
your
dusty skin.

10/07//73

Rose-daughter. Daisy-child.

Nam's bride
the jungle swallowed
your lover.

Militant
for peace. Kent State
made you bleed.

Golden Gate couldn't
free you.
The drug cloud's steel edge
bruised
your wings.

Autumn's first raindrops
released you.

01/10/75

Clay spins ribbons
over your thumbs. Pots wriggle
from your fingertips like
slipper fish. Leap
to kiln and
store window.

Your thumbprint snagged
the bottom
of the
red bowl
you threw for me.

08/25/85

Nibbles,
like a tick on your
neck.
Gasoline might
force it out. I'd like to
pop it.

Screams the
Big "C"
in squirts of
bug blood
on my skin.
(cancer is a word to be
whispered)

The tick left
his head
to slither through
your veins.

09/01/85

you screamed
Roger,
but I kept your doll
and dangled her
on a rope.

you stole her back.

I said there was
no such thing as Santa
anyway.

Duchess,
you knew better. folded
your thin arms
over your chest and
kissed
Mrs. Beasley's cheek.

11/21/86

You wear your knitted cap
like a crown.
You thank
me
for sharing my
poetry.

In return,
you share your
naked scalp,
cap twirling
in your fingers.

You grin like
the Grinch
after
he gave Christmas back to
Whoville.

02/13/87

rain glides
over
your window glass. you stroke
the newly-grown hair
on the curve
of your skull.

you tell me
that
you don't want
a funeral.

say
I
would be the only
one there.

because
I am your
brother.

04/06/87

It seems
that your ashes
weigh more
than your body
when I last carried you to
the beach.

Like surf foam, your laughter
filled you lightly;
you floated.

I hold your physical
residue in the cracked
vase you made
when you were twelve.

1988

Thoughts and Comments

"08/25/85" "04/06/87" were published in Calliope 1989. "08/25/85" was published under the title "revelations".
Both published under a pseudonym: V. Nichols

Calliope 1989
Published by the Students of the University of the Pacific
Stockton, CA
1989

I was a member of the editorial staff for this edition. My bio in the mag says "Barbara Muller finds that three years of college has greatly increased the amount of paper she must move from one pile to another. Things have disappeared into the piles, like the bedroom floor. She surfaces occasionally for class, and sometimes escapes with an actual piece of writing."