it's cruel to let yourself be kidnapped and leave us always wondering
where the body went.
where the body fell,
mouldered,
withered.
you terrify me, walking around town with your skin grey and shriveled,
your eyes long since stolen
by some raven spoon.
when the wind blows, garden dirt
builds up along my windowsill. i'm
snowed in by carrot beds.
it's all the same; you're dead to me.
(just way the word and i'll tear down your tombstone)
if you're my sister,
why can't we take the same maiden name?
i'm wearing a revolving door, four arms to my starfish's five,
but that's the price of growing up-
cold, sheer glass and this endless spinning.
spinning and spinning,
but never will you fall.
i'm eating wind and shoes.
