Nangi*

She was tiny

that’s my first memory of her:

tiny,

and over time

she grew smaller and smaller

not by the distancing of time

or continental shifts

tinier

for reasons of proximity

order of birth

tiny enough to command

pandered to, she was

indulged

but perhaps feared

I could hold her hand

or hold her in my palm

but maybe

that’s what she wanted me to think

she holds me too

in a heart-palm

made of mother

and friend,

but she’s tiny

this sister of mine.

*Upon reading the draft of her second novel and being utterly moved.

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