Sister-mine

They bring her to the waiting room crying
and she cries on the ride home.
She cries as daddy kisses her red-fisted face
and cries as mommy wraps her in a new, pink blanket.

I sit by her and sing all the lullabies I know
waiting with a lapful of toys.
I whisper her name again and again so she’ll remember.
I promise to wait for her to love us.

There’s a picture of her in a velveteen dress
trying to pet a kitten who doesn’t want her touch.
She looks to the camera and is surprised
to see us watching her in her cuteness.

I wait on the sidewalk by her stroller
while mother buys something special for her.
I make sure that my sister sees only smiles
on the faces who stop by to look.

Then she’s in first grade
then she’s in high school
then she’s a graduate
then she’s a bride

But she doesn’t trust
that we love, I love, she is loved.

Her birthdays now come and go.
The holidays are empty of her.
The calendars never mark her visits.

Sister is a word for someone who
may love you or may not.
We never know.