Eve Rounds

a poem about you for you (and you)

you are your own
though your temperament reminds me of him
your head is more
ripe mango
while his was more
soft plum
my love for you is wrapped in
the strangeness of patterns and rhymes
decadent meals and annual martinis
our spontaneous brush strokes
a good cackle cry on the screened in porch
confessions of tiny magnets
make you (and toni girl) my favorite

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


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


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


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.