Sister, Dear Sister
Common as blackberries, these knock-kneed sisters,
Though I could tell you a pocketful of lies
About the lion heart of this one,
Or the golden tongue of that,
And the many who drowned in their eyes.
No, time hasn't been cruel to them, long though they've lain in the cask.
With them it was the usual score:
One loved less, the other more,
Honeycombs and lemons she gave—rich gifts.
Leaving them on the threshold, claiming ignorance.
Her plaits hung down like dried-out garlands.
She strung a harp from her own black hair,
Tuning it nightly for her sister fair.
But oh, what discordant madrigals, when those fingers touched the strings!
A bitter love indeed,
Ill-suited to a fairy tale.
So the golden girl left with the dawn, in search of a fortune;
That other found hairs in the corners like sunshine
And scavenged the last of the honey.
Lauren Joslin is a 25-year old graduate of Boston University from Melrose, Massachusetts. She is currently working in retail and avidly writing always. She is inspired by everything from personal struggles to Medieval history to Santeria. She has been published here and there but hopes to someday be published everywhere and is currently working on a collection of short essays.