I am two years old and I don’t know
who you are. You cry and our mother hears. This
is the 1st lullaby.
I am mine and dance does not interest me, but I look
up and you are a brown speck in a sea
of blue leotards and white faces. I am
proud. This is
the 2nd lullaby. I am
thirteen. The two of you
burn holes
in the furniture, holy water
seeps out while
you confine a holocaust.
You are crying and she smirks.
And you leave like a broken doll.
The 3rd lullaby is sung.
The 4th is sung.
The 5th.
I am no longer Switzerland, now the bridge
between the fury of sisters. I stand
in your stead and face her.
She relents. This is the 6th
lullaby. The sunlight is
caught in your eyes. They are
a lighter shade of brown, like the Sahara.
I am jealous.
7, 8 , 9,
10 lullabies.
You are anxious at the deli.
This is the 11th lullaby.
You move across the stage like magic.
The dance consumes you.
12 lullabies.
I don’t think you realize your gifts.
The 13th lullaby is sung.
The 14th lullaby is sung.
The 15th lullaby is sung.
16.
I am two years and two months older, but it feels
like you are two feet and two inches taller.
“Is that your elder sister?”
17 lullabies.
1260 BPM, and they come
Trochilidae Vigors, honeysuckle.
This is the 18th lullaby.
I wish I was brave like you.
19 lullabies.
Anemia never stopped the chambers from working.
You are part of who I want to be.
20 lullabies.
21 lullabies.
You are more than enough.
The 22nd lullaby is sung.
You are a collapsing nebula giving birth to herself.
23 lullabies.
24 lullabies.
A star shining through all of space and time.
This is the 25th lullaby.
This is the 26th lullaby.
A voice roaring
in the wilderness.
You sing 27.