Member-only story
Silent Sister
a poem about sisters
When we meet in the produce section
it takes you too long to recognize me, but
we recite the litany of jobs and lovers and addresses anyway
because we know it’s expected of us, it’s the required dance
people do after long separations.
We move through the aisles, agreeing
it is the best selection in the state;
kumquats, snow peas, tofu showcased
amid too many varieties of potatoes. We grew
up with routine choices, limp green beans,
hothouse tomatoes, suspect ears of corn.
You used to claim we were one another’s skin
and I believed it. There was nothing we didn’t tell
one another and it took years of talking before we
learned again the damage words can cause, so much
damage even our faithful silence betrayed us.
Now I offer you as much as I can
while pressing cellophaned produce, but you
remain as sealed as the freezers three aisles over.
I’ve had to give up everything
I couldn’t live without. It’s made my life so strong and
clean there is even space for you
again, room enough now…
