the two purple bells are turned
towards the sun—listening—my
older sister, not someone I’ve met
before, bends her gaze down and
into a book—left to right to
left to right—I see a question in
her features the sun has gone her
ringtone goes off where are you
walking? she inquires laughs the
sun comes and goes quickly my
sister walks past me stumbles
slightly I support her gently
in my thoughts but not
in the physical world my older
sister has departed I hope she finds
happiness and mean it the purple
bells are still tilted persistently
towards something that could
be they are inflexible but not
altogether unrealistic I must admit I
sit beside them now a pile of meat
imitating green and purple tissue
pervaded by bright light since
one second ago (a light
that does not shine through me) I
am unmoved and unpenetrated as
the transparent bells are unringingly
shaken by the breeze my sister has
departed and I am warmth-blocked
by a large cloud once again I will
follow the example of the purple
bells for a while I sway as I feel the
breeze but do not become see-
through as far as I can tell I
temporarily persist nonetheless
tilting like the bells a trio left to right
to left to right with no question in
our features my ringtone goes off
where are you walking? says he I’m
swaying I reply I love you says the
smiling voice I’ll see you soon say I
having broken the rhythm I walk
and walk disharmoniously while the
two inflexible semi-transparent
bodies remain swaying and swaying
I walk they sway they sway and I walk
________________
Isabel de Andreis is a Gates Scholar at the University of Cambridge. Her poems have appeared in Popshot Quarterly, Poetry Wales, Orbis, and other magazines and journals.
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