jessicacolleenmcdermott

Poetry/Creative non-fiction/fiction

How My Twin and I Grew June 14, 2011

Filed under: Poetry — jessicacolleenmcdermott @ 7:39 pm
Tags: , ,

…So we grew together

Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,

But yet an union in partition,

Two lovely berries moulded on one stem…

~William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream

 

Close to 1996 I try playing G.I. Joes with you and Brian, the hallway

                        carpet is a battle ground of bleeding soldiers.

                        I can’t make the correct “ugg” or ”pshh” sounds like you

                        two can, but I don’t have to- my female cobra commander never dies.

 

Close to 2002 when mom dies, you go outside and roll on the ground, refusing

                        to leave. The couple we barely know from church lead us to their

                        car so the adults can discuss funeral plans. I stare at you while we eat

                        stale cheerios at their two chair kitchen table.

                        You don’t speak to me.

 

Close to 1993 we put snow hats on our peach fuzz heads and tell mom

                        we are leaving. The front door opens to snow drifts

                        reaching the door knob. I grab my Barbie purse, and mom

                        slides boots onto your feet.

 

Close to 2009 I hide a goodbye letter inside your toiletry bag the

                        night before you move to Salt Lake City.

                        Tears dribble down my checks at two a.m., and I

                        secretly wish we were going to the same college.

 

Close to 2006 our step mom screams until her face is scarlet. Dad moves us

                        across town into a two bedroom guest house. At night we huddle

                        next to the living room vent, and you read me Oscar Wilde.

                        Your spine aches from sleeping on the couch.

 

Close to 2010 we spend the summer apart for the first time.

                        We communicate through poetry and cell phones.

                        In August you pick me up at the airport, and I notice

                        whiskers on your face.

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