my sister's hair is spun from sunlight,

and her crooked smile's an arrow to the heart.

when the dim streetlights downtown

bounce off her beaten leather jacket

i see the birth of a constellation.

(it usually looks like the scars on her back)

her lipstick's smudged with blood

that she spits in old beer cans

she's saved from her ex.

her watch has a dent

from when she clocked our dad's friend,

so she's constantly checking the time.

she freezes old candlewax,

(to mold into pearls)

sips saltwater martinis,

(to say that she does)

and laughs every time that trips

(this one i'm scared to know why)

sister,

i queried one day,

as she sat by the window,

idly juggling what held her mother's ashes.

why did your friend walk off with my glasses?

that's simple, she replied with a roll of her eyes,

i traded with him; he needed to learn how to drive.

then she pulled a small fife canary up from her sleeve and said,

now you have this instead.

when she caught a glimpse of my face, she only scowled and sighed

i knew you wouldn't understand.

but it didn't matter to me,

for you see,

i love her with all that i am.

upon telling her this,

she blinked twice and said gee, okay,,,

then but two days later

she sprinkled some dirt on her freckly, off-center nose

(afamily tradition for luck)

and with a stained baseball cap and chipped nails of pure white,

she and her princess left for the sea.