No Sister

Dear Sister,

Did I perform badly
Just now
In a tragic
Comedy of errors,
Staged,
White-faced
And skirted by convention;
Forgetting my lines
In an allotted script,
My sister, your no sister?

I was exposed,
Caught in the open
Harsh glare
Of final commitment
Like a rabbit on the road
When I spotted you,
Fleetingly, in the wings,
Engaged elsewhere;
Not here;
Not anywhere near,
My sister, your no sister.

Why do I hear
The hollow echo
Of your laughter,
Haunting, taunting,
In the back room,
Turning sour in my ear;
Morose, non-committal
(We'll see, maybe)
When you answer the phone
My sister, your no sister?

Look!
Even when
I was playing your brother
(you said we were sisters)
Was I ever
Anything else
More or less
Than a frame on the mantel;
An element,
Untouchable,
Irreducible
In your personal myth;
A mover of furniture,
Two disembodied arms,
Empty and broken,
Under a bowed-down back,
My sister, your no sister?

You know,
Don't you that
At our age
You were never
Going to get
A sister by other means
Who bled with your own blood
And wept the tears
Of your kindred spirits keening,
My sister, your no sister?

Bowed,
Bowed down,
I see between my legs
The blood of my own birth
And your betrayal.
In the barren passageway
Between here and then
I find my gift to you
Untouched, unopened.
And is that his picture
Still gathering sacred dust
My sister, your no sister?

Well, no matter,
Tomorrow breaks anew
And then will I wed,
Becoming another man's wife.
But until
And beyond,
I understand
I remain, forever,
My sister, your no sister.

Our New Car

Our new VW Polo TDI Diesel Hatchback on its first Sunday outing - to Double Bay.

Sleeping between two lovers

Crawlspace

In the still dim folds of morning
Round the pale laced shroud-square
Of the window

- While you two
Are sleeping,
Snoring and purring
Softly, softly
And almost in unison
On either side of the still-warm
Crumpled crawlspace
In which, between your backs’ press
Each night I try
To extinguish hell –

I ready myself for battle
Girding lean loins in
Full briefs and false bravado
Stuffing my bra and hoping
I don’t lose it
All.

Already the voices
Crowd and clamour,
Negative, positive,
Arcing their opposites
Across the bell jar
Of the brain,
Battering, jitterbugging
In a constant current,
Tangled up, wired up
On the wire.

In the gathering light
I will assemble
An array of earrings
And incantations,
Prayers, plays,
Ploys, pretences,
Strategies, ruses,
Runes, routines,
High heels,
Desperate deals.

Until I’m
Brushed and blushed,
And dressed for the kill.
Then I’ll move up to the line,
Pausing by your bedside briefly
Trying to fix the moment,
Your knowing eyes,
Your gentle smile,
Drinking deep
A stirrup cup
Of your quiet hope and longings,
Sweet, sweet kisses, blessings.
Stuffing them, hopeless,
In my heart and handbag;
Adding to my armaments.

Leaving,
Lurching
Launching
Clicking and clattering,
Into the labyrinth

Trailing a thin, thin thread.