FRANCES
It was rather a messy affaire
Having a sister like you
Born with grey hair
At six foot two
It can't have been easy for you
Rosy red veined cheeks
You never did wear make up
Bones like a boy
You always did
Prefer
Red Indians
You mocked my frilly dresses
At twelve I liked red lipstick
You were stuck on God
And called your family sinners
I remember you in that end room
Hunting through your bible
Did you toss a coin
For verse of the day
Or just shut your blind eyes
And point?
I remember your 18th Birthday
I invited the worst
Drug taking drunks I could find
You invited the Church
Nigel with the Polythene shirt
He was sweet on you
Who else would be?
Your disguise is slim
You can't fool me
Big Brother
I look at you
You plod
At six foot two
Your little girlfriend
Poor thing
Has Alopecia
And wears a head scarf for her sins
You walk
The Chemin St Jacques de Compostella
Every year
Together
You look great in boots
With haversack
Your life on your back
So dear sister
Why did you kill me?
Was it Frilly clothes and pretty hair?
Clothes you could never wear?
Why did you push me
Off my chair
Aged two?
And beat me with a stick?
Was it because of the lipstick
That you could never wear?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem