Eve Rounds

michelle

it was our privilege
to watch la bamba in the master bedroom
our preteen bellies full of linguine with canned clam sauce
prone posed and upside down
on the queen meant for three princesses
screech singing unknowingly incorrectly
lalalalalalabamba
lalalalalalabamba
at the top of our lungs hearts tonsils
gasping over the sudden and fatal coin tossed plane crash
the twenty one year old family cat observing us from the shag
we grip each others hands too tightly to feel any pain
in our fingers hearts preteen minds
no premonition
no present fear
that ten years later one of us would die
in a classically tragic car crash
just out of life’s turbulence
amidst the hope of
heads up

i don’t even know

how long it’s been. haven’t been counting days haven’t counted backwards on the calendar. haven’t bothered to reread my own words. haven’t been missing you

the five senses

your blue eyes and crooked lippy smile which i inherited that tiny soft bristle brush for your basically bald head the white corvette a campfire cards

love

what did falling in love feel like to you actual falling a new winter sweater a blood flutter did you question its science or were you

noise

sometimes the wind the waves muffle and drown my memories sometimes the wind the waves magnify and amplify the sound of your voice and clearing

the theatre

this is  a silent film flickering  catching  starting over emptiness surrounding such a blinding contrast ahead of us shared stories  captured images disconnected nonsensical we

Twins

It isn’t easy being a twin.   Others considered us as one two-part person,  while our parents saw,  in our conspiring, four or more.