The Offspring

We have yawned, stumbled, and settled

freshly into this hell called adulthood;

me dawdling two, maybe three, steps behind

you and thriving in the inconsistent glow of these frequent

advancements of the future I once

prayed to seize.

We have tenanted the same womb

tipsy on breastmilk from the same breast

your hair broaches, barrettes, and bubbles bequeathed to me.

Two majestic women, blood sisters

with gold and steady hearts

fated to grow in spaces of anger.

Time is strapped to the front of a jet

and seventeen years surpassed the speed of light

since we’ve been gifted a brother

who would jump with extended joy to snuggle between us

in the bed that we also once shared.