Thirteen waves: xiii.

sunset-phil-capper-ccby2.0.jpg

xiii.

I should be out the porthole,
surfing violet mohawks,
bursting the orange horizon.
But in this Fokker Friendship
we are dozing
over the disc of dusk towards
the cardboard box
you say is my home too
for a while
if I like.
(One eye juicing the sunset.
One eye tasselling
wigs of pingao.)

Poem and reading by Rachel McAlpine CC BY 2.0, photo by Phil Capper CC BY 2.0

Poem for my big sister Jill

unspecified

I wanted to give you a poem
eighty years back
when you were first-born
and armies were rising
and peace receding.
You learned about consultation
in the womb.

I wanted to give you a poem
to thank you
for protecting me
and holding my hand
and showing the way
and making peace
without any fights or feuds
or atom bombs.

The poem sat in my head for weeks
waiting for Mother’s attention.
On a short dark day
lop-sided day
turn-around day
a fence of shards and sand
and shrapnel sprang up
between the poem and me.

So I clambered over the fence
ripping my shorts
on splinters
lost a shoe
and clambered back to you
the almost perfect baby
to give you what you lacked
the one thing all big sisters need:

your very own big sister
just like Jill
to shelter and protect you
and hold your hand
and take the lead
on dark days
and on bright days too
the way big sisters do.

with love from Rachel 23 June 2016