Dialysis

I walk with my sister and we are young And her knees are less broken; they swallow petrel calls and soon we are equivalent. I call these my oceans. I shriek with my sister, we wished the evenings would take our wolf-like sounds and make us un-speeched. We are straight and know the meaning of artificiality. It is this: jingoism, pesticide, beaches steeped in rich, naked men. I promise to protect my sister from optimism, and together we are impatiently consumed by mosquito thirst. When we grow pale, I offer her dirty laundry, grass stains. In her mind, she is already past alternatives, and has forgotten those rhythms. Beneath the ocean, I am subdued and I am drowning in inanity And there is a chain wrapped around my sisters foot; really it is a snake. I am bellowing the chains, willing her to acquiesce, but she whispers to the snake, sweetly, and it slackens, and she is walking into naked beaches.