When I was small, you were my sister
A golden crown upon your head
You perched high on a branch,
Too high for me to touch
I spent years,
Looking for a ladder
Sometimes you’d come down,
And read me Sappho’s poems,
“I have not had one word from her,
Frankly I wish I were dead”
I did not understand
Why it scared you so much,
To love a girl.
Running back to heat grates at 6 am
Puffing out like babushka dolls
Despise-Adore, Despise-Adore,
The wings of our flippant affection
Lay on the chimes of our father’s praises.
Alleyways, Airports, A mother’s arms,
We have been everywhere together,
Except home
For a long time now.
Red, Red room,
You held my hand as I answered,
All the uniform’s questions
You told me:
Someday you’ll be invincible.
Just you wait.
White, White room,
You held my hand as I counted
A ceiling of stagnant snowflakes,
You whispered:
We’ll laugh about this later,
Much later.
Black, Black night and
You have made me resilient
You have made me forgiven
And I think it is almost time
To laugh.
Miriam Worde is a writer and artist from Austin, Texas. She spends most of her time listening to Townes Van Zandt, reading Virginia Woolf and watching movies from the 70s with her two cats. She has been published in journals around Austin and is currently working on her first chapbook of poetry focusing on bipolar disorder.