My Sister

My sisters

Tenderloin dope fiends

Loud, Crazy

Collapsed in Despair

Offering body in trade

Thinking it little worth

Begging and Plaintive

Angrily Demanding

Drunken falling

Sidewalk sprawling

Nodding heroin dreams

Hitting speed

Passed the fuck out

Toothless

Face collapsed

Twice their age

I love you.

You are beautiful.

Someone's daughter.

Someone's mother.

My sister.

Beautiful.

I don't mean in potential.

I don't mean on the inside.

Just beautiful

Now.

To me.

Dirty Hand

Something there is that's so attractive about a dirty hand,

A hand not spent in indoor things,

Nor sipping tea,

Nor gently touching a perfect face.

A hand that plays and grubs

and feels the real that's real.

The kind of hand that makes the world.

Thanks to +lerato majikfaerie who's photo of a spider and hand inspired this poem, and to Robert Frost who's Mending Wall took over that spot in my brain that dictates rhythm and feel to the extent that I was done before I stopped to wonder where that came from, although the middle reminds me more of an Elizabeth Barrett Browning poem.  No not How do I love thee? Let me count the ways, but the poem of hers that I love the best, If thou must love me, let it be for nought.