I do not have a sister. I do have a brother.
Though we share the same parents, my brother
was not weaned on our mother‘s milk. We channel
this harped & hided world. I have my many echoes.
My brother has his own—myself, which I suggested he lose.
He did, & I waited nearly twenty years to see him again.
He showed up with a folded newspaper under his right arm
which hid a long sharp knife. Discovering his knife I told him
of the many spiders & their many eyes that shared my house.
I said, Ultimately, everything I do, I do for our sister. He said,
Indeed. It was then that he doffed his hat, made his exit,
& went in search of the graves of our grandparents.