My Sister

I love my sister

Let’s start there

My younger sister
My only sister

She makes me laugh

She also makes me want
to walk barefoot
into the ocean
with no phone
no purse
no forwarding address

She calls me
with the same story

A man

Of course

Because apparently
there are no other subjects
left on earth

Men and love
Love and men

I can listen
to almost anything

A bad day
A hard morning
A fear
A memory

I can sit there

I can make room

I can say
tell me

But the same man
the same question

My God

You can only advise
so many times

You can only point
to the exit
so many times

And she will bring him
anywhere

To the car

To the gym

To Pilates

To the one sacred hour
where I am trying
to remember
I have a body
and not just ears

I am holding a pose
trying to breathe
trying to keep
my head attached
to the rest of me

and there he is again
some man
I did not invite
standing between
my inhale
and my exhale

Texas is hot

The air is thick

My allergies are arguing
with the weather

And here comes
the same conversation
about a man
who is not even worth
this much oxygen

Not a relationship

Not a mystery

Just the same door
opening and closing
opening and closing

while she stands there
trying to explain
something
that has already
explained itself

I am not trying
to be dramatic

But it makes me ill

There are days
my head feels
unattached to my body

Every sound

Every question

Every unnecessary detail
about a man
who should have been
a paragraph
not a season

I love my peace

I protect my peace

I have learned
that anything
that takes up
that much space
inside your head
is already charging you rent

And love
real love
clean love
the kind that lets you sleep
should not require
a detective
and four witnesses

It should not need
a committee

It should not need
my sister
me
and the Holy Spirit

Trying to decode
a grown man’s behavior

If something is good
it breathes

If something is not good
I leave

But my sister stays

She circles the same ache
like there might be
a hidden door
under the floor

She asks me what I think
and because I am me
because I listen

I tell her

Gently

Clearly

Like a woman
placing candles
along the edge
of a dark staircase

And she says yes

Yes, you’re right

Then goes right back
to the same staircase
with roller skates on

And I just

God . .

I am tired

Not tired of her

Tired of the loop

Tired of the man
who becomes a room
she keeps renting
with her own peace

Today I finally said it

I am making you
an appointment
with a therapist

A counselor

A professional

Someone with a clock

Someone who says
our forty-five minutes
are up

which honestly
sounds like luxury

Because with me
it is hours

Hours on end

A whole sacrifice

A full offering

She has invited me
to travel with her
so many times

And I know she means joy

I know she means beach
coffee
photographs
matching sunglasses
some version of sisters
we never quite learned
how to be

But I cannot

No way can I

Not because I don’t love her

Because I know
a vacation with my sister
would still have my sister in it

Her questions

Her men

And me
standing there
trying to enjoy the view
while the same old conversation
pulls up a chair
beside the ocean

Maybe I am just
the family therapist

No office

No degree

No co-pay

Just survival
and a face
that says
tell me everything

So today
I let her talk
a little less into me

And honestly?

I laughed

Again

Because she’s my sister

My beautiful

Exhausting sister

And still

I love her