My pale Californian sister and her younger brother
The same smile
Screening down the back door, lightly
In a jumper and shandles (not quite shoes, not quite sandles)
Right before the dawn lights limes

Breaking character and creeping out
All nights, sleeping on the bus
Friends to go play loudly in P.B
And make the sun rise more for us

Plucking up an instrument each
Under mantelpieces
From cases and on coins
Mine’s strings and drums
And all her ribs are rum

Unheard of
A melody
Comes flying on one wing
And I will mend the other with my love for broken swings
And I will sing with my mother voice
Saying what my father could not say
And sand is washed in water
And we summon up the day