Sister
After deaths
shared,
breaths
held, words
measured, false
gods,
now we don’t
speak.
Remember the
tall hay,
gooseberries?
I dared you
to climb that
tree.
It’s time
to cobble us
together again,
no one left
but us
to die.
2 comments:
I like this, especially the gooseberries and cobbled.
Thanks, Rae!
Post a Comment