Last Wednesday
She nags, what I should read
what I should wear, eat, do
but when she wants something
she cries on the phone – ‘He’s
gone – help me help me.’
‘OK – we’ll sort it – 30 minutes.’
Big sister, little sister, OK?
She hates my car because
it’s purple, she hates my ‘lifestyle’
it’s purple too.
Today she won’t mind.
Today I’m her big sister.
Today she’ll cry on my shoulder
she won’t mention my hair, my pink
lamé top, ‘those damn jeans’.
She won’t say ‘For Christ’s
sake – haven’t you got
anything else to wear?’
and ‘that glittery lipstick
went out with Punk.’
I never told her Punk had
not gone out. Punk was alive
and well and living at my place.
I won’t say, ‘That guy’s trouble,
smell it a mile away.’
I won’t say it today
because I already said it.
I won’t say that either.
Renée
