For My Sister

Glasses-whiteness paint-streaked girl,
Bending hand edged with charcoal into twirls
Paint in water and
Water on canvas
And
All things that stick in our minds
To never fade,
Like
Botticelli curls,
Heavenly dreams in soft fleshy angels
Far too real for the world to touch,
And green eyes over curved lips,
She quotes Rand and Dostoevsky a
Neo-classicist philosopher who would never agree,
With eyes
Like diamonds
But dreams
Like sunlight in water,
Speak to a deeper feeling than love...
Aquamarine and topaz,
Brocade flies through the wind behind her eyes
Wings that never carry more than
All that she could ever need,
And
Clay-spattered images in the deep of the night,
When the dogs sleep and
The moon is all that remarks her passing,
A curlicue of shadow in the streetlights...
She
Sees through your deepest facades,
Your best-constructed faerie glamours,
Brings the small dark things into light
They disappear
Because to be seen is too great a great gift
To be understood,
To be imagined
In colors unforeseeably
Beautiful,
Like she is....