My Sister

My Sister

was a hawkmoth. My sister was heartbeat, dust in the hands, diurnal wormglow.

My sister was a chestnut, tight in our mother’s womb that I spoke to.

My sister watched for star fragments flashing to the sea. My sister was a red trout, a talisman, a dirigible.

My sister was the riverbank and the hitch. My sister ran with the pack. My sister ran to hereafter, to the sound of wolfblood

boiling in her heels.