holding my hand or linking arms
as we shopped around the mall.
I could write about my sister
and me in the mirror, she
standing in my old bra
and the new panties we bought
the night before
at CVS.
I could write about
her long wavy hair
and how I had to
teach her how
to keep it clean
and unknotted,
or how I showed her
how to shave her legs.
Yet, I can’t recall
my own reflection
or how I taught
myself at that age.
I could write about
how I wonder
if she or I
take after our mom more.
I could write about calling
on the first day of school,
listening to her discuss
her outfits and boys
of middle school,
wishing her luck
and wishing I could be there.
I could write about
how our mother’s dark
Spanish hair haunts me
and how neither of us have
her olive skin.
I could write about
when my little sister
called me beautiful,
when
she called me
inspirational,
when she
brought tears to my eyes
because she said
“Of course I worry
about you.”
is a college composition and creative writing instructor in New York and New Jersey. Her writing has been published by Sonic Boom, Clarendon House Publications, The Pangolin Review, Whale Road Review, Streetlight Press, Dying Dahlia, and Downtown Brooklyn. According to her little sister, Margot loves house appliances, does not go to the movies often, is obsessed with mugs, and doesn’t like peanuts. Together, they still love walking through the mall, arms linked and disagreeing on fashion. Sometimes they share an Oreo milkshake.
