Little Sister

There was a light in my eye

seen in my younger sister

and the shadow

I pray won't get bigger.

I want to be the tiger

at her bedroom doorway,

closet, foot of bed

to ravage the evils things.

Timid limbs breaking boldly

through corn fields into open pastures,

penchant for muddy earth

and rough games the boys play.

My sister is not me.

Yet I pray for her safety

against the lies of femininity,

of isolation at preteen pool parties,

of the relief of sharp objects,

of morbid daydreams, the fear of falling,

and the too-cool-for-school defense.

Whatever you hear,

I want to hear it also

and comfort you

if the drowning sets in.