I reserve this name for the one I wish to find
when the lights go dim.
If I call you, Sis, I too
have been the only of us in a crowded room.
I, too, have learned
We are the reason the room is full–
that there are vultures feeding off our bodies, here
and everyone sees our wide, wailing mouths
but nobody hears our screams.
I see you, Sis
your smile, a practice.
I know what becomes of us, chewed up,
when we cover up the decay in Keep going.
I offer you this oil,
this calming for your body.
It is a prayer that saved me from a bathtub once
I escaped on a faint Amen.
May any blood of yours in the carpet,
tears in sheets drown the bitch that hurt you.
And I will uplift
away from the love once a love, the relationship mangled, the silent
mornings when the mirror does not want your name.
Speak it anyway.
Learn the magic of your mouth,
how it will begin to curve in mysterious ways,
bend the broken into a blessing
on a night when the moon watches with it’s whole smile
and every candle is lit.