by Lacadalet Magazine
Published on: Aug 12, 2010
Topic:
Type: Poetry

As young girls
lying under the flowered roof
we played those school games.
I was 10 and you 12.

Your mother isn't here any more.
We can play as long as we want,
but we haven't any dinner.

“You are my sister,” she said.
“And your mother takes cocaine.”

We both played alone.


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