anyhow, i thought i'd post a poem. so there.
From Russia with Love
Letters between my sister and me
exchanged across an ocean or two
and a dozen other countries—
a meeting point between two lifes,
two languages, two lovers of the world
who can’t find their own piece.
I am humid days and long drives;
she is crumbling pavement and splattered paint.
I am stretching and encompassing,
then wrapping myself into a tense ball,
waiting for the explosion that will follow
a touch from the next stranger;
she is breaking and rebuilding,
then creating herself on every canvas,
across every screen, for every eye,
frozen in the poses they prefer.
We are women; we are children.
We are saviors; we are succubi.
We are the foundations of what we want;
We are the rubble of what we were.