For 1st Period Poetry
Poetry was, I suppose (as everything seems to lead back to);
We were grubby hands and disproportionate limbs,
Adolescent shrieks and tin-foil capped jars of fireflies
We were pulsing,
fast and short while we gave chase
and then caught,
slower, more mature--
Taller and stranger, glowing still, but steady
peaceful, our yellow lights almost in sync; almost.
We are the longest love story ever told;
I, your girl next door with a firey temper and you,
who never sought to control the burn.
You learned me first, laced our fingers together
and never quite let go.
When a Younger sibling is born,
an Older sibling starts the tedious process of disappearance.
It is unbidden and slow, at first, and so subtle that she doesn't seem to realize it herself,
until she can see the grown up teeth pushing up through her transparent skin.
Older reads younger stories at night
(she can't read yet, but she draws from the pictures and fills in the gaps with her playdoh)
and when they play together,
Older keeps Younger from bumping into a wall by shifting, and,
She puts herself between Younger and Danger.
(Older does not know yet that she will be doing that for the rest of her life)
But it doesn't seem like a question, or a burden,
it is a birthright,
an honor, and a privilege
to disappear for her.