If I am my sister's keeper,
then will the secrets she's
forced down my throat hot, the ones she's ordered me
to hold there and not let them
gurgle back up,
count for a blessing or three?
A thank-you?
A vice versa?
A simple requite?
I don't know how much longer
I can hold these hidden, pardoned sins
if my own are shouted out through her mouth-speaker
to this bastard listener of the world.
YOU ARE READING
SUNSHOWERS
Non-FictionA book of poetry. A book of tears. A book of blood and sweat, too. A book to hold me. Will you let it hold me?
