My Sister’s Birthday

We rubbed our faces against the clear cool glass,
The border land almost breached as we laughed.
Barefoot in hand-me-down Armani I held my sister,
As she beamed at ivory white mannequins six foot tall.
We giggled and danced invisible in front of our Gods,
As we forgot our hunger and my sister’s missing hand.

Thundering bahar descends full of outrage,
As we flee the dream temple onto the baked lands.
At half height we weave like acrobats in our dirt skins,
Ready for the next bad-trade and hunger-meal.
With our three paws we forage for the glinty-things,
And see only images of oranges where bottle tops lie.

My sister finds apple peel and we share double quick,
And spit out sand and memories of our mother-land.
We cross the bady-bady where the stone-boys roam,
And find the water crack to clean our panda eyes.
Safe like hunted deer we pause and with cracked mouths,
We yawn knowing the day has only just begun.

We fist trade our glinty-things for finger bread,
But kutra circles so we push-off to monkey land.
Our dancing friends keep the black dogs at bay,
As I give my sister a marble I name Samsung.
She holds it eagerly in her only-hand and cries,
She wants to hold the marble,
She wants to hold my hand,
But more than this,
She wants to lie down and die.

Marky B