More Self Disclosure

[poliphilo]

                                    SIS 
    

                                    When hair first grew between my thighs

                                    I'd tuck my genitals out of sight

                                    And take a look in the full-length mirror

                                    At Sis, my twin, her long hair wound up

                                    In shawl or turban.

 

                                                                    We'd not been apart

                                    Till then.

 

                                                     She left home shortly after

                                    For Egypt- where she lifts the dead

                                    Gently out of their holes in the earth

                                    And drinks expresso, molto expresso,

                                    And lives on her nerves.

 

                                                                             She takes less shit

                                    Than I will and her messages

                                    Are sharp and piney.

                                                                       

                                                                        I haven't affected

                                    The full-length mirror much since she split.

 

                                    But when I do I notice how

                                    The lines are softening.  However priapic

                                    Or cunnilingual we are, we tend

                                    To the ending of sex.  Old men and women:

                                    Dress 'em in jim-jams, mix 'em together,

                                    Guess which is which.

 

                                                                      But there's this as well;

                                    The older I get, the closer I get

                                    To her shamelessness, to her spit-cat wit.

                                    Polish the timber and shine up the handles-

                                    My scapegrace sister is coming home.

This also sort of relates to today's first post. I've posted it before, but that was back in the beginning before anyone- but anyone- was reading me.