I have turned when tired or tight
to the twin who should be
ghosting in on my blind side,
disappearing like mist on a glass
sensing his heavy breath like we've
crossed a snowy field
leaving no footprints, like a perfect crime
when the house is quiet, I notice...
Behind the veil of immaculate speeches and harsh promises they would lie down, naked, and she
would stroke him, her fingertips tracing the curve of his lower back – smooth like the slope of a
sunny dune softly glowing beneath her hand – careful to stay far awa...