For My Sister

you are (like our mother) happy just lying

in the garden, under the chime we hanged

for our dead dog - her tumor became ours

and now your tumor is mine:

you named your son after the gift

from God, a land that itself could not

contain his wondrous grippings

in his sing-song liftings of your smile

the new name became mine - if you bear

another son i will take that name

you playfully impaled onto a daughter

and she be yours as yours is mine

the ring came, entrapped in your bony fingers

while you winced, but now that

pleasure comes transformed into the form of

a vexing disguised as a new dress

i remember how your flarings made me cry

when i was lessthanten

but now i am morethantwenty

and i seek your flarings

so that your son can learn to flare

and your "daughter" bursts into the world with flair