They always tiptoed round the hole
until one day when I was twelve
told me I’d had a little sister.
Where is she now I asked.
In Heaven with the angels
they replied. I was not convinced.
She was a Blue Baby, bless her heart,
died when she was six days old.
After that, as I drifted off to sleep
I’d see her floating in the air outside my window,
rippling arms the colour of the sky, calling,
telling me I should’ve been the one to die.
You never told me, my dead sister.
It’s our family’s grownups
who know how to splinter hearts with words
as blue and cold as ice.
Susan Castillo Street is an international woman of mystery. She has published three collections of poems, The Candlewoman’s Trade (2003), Abiding Chemistry, (2015), and Constellations (2016), as well as in several leading journals and anthologies. She is owned by two cats, Dan and Eric.