POETRY

By Helena Steel

We’re on the phone      both of us
peel       ing apples
cut       ting out the bruises
and rot        ten bits. She’s making
a pie        and me, a cake.
A coin­ci­dent       al thing that
happens with sis ters.
But we don’t fall     for the same men,
share the  same politic      al values or
mem ories
of  child      hood and no longer
bleed     at the same time. Today,
I  don’t want to     talk about the house sale,
the div orce,
anti       depressants,
or univers       ity applications.
But only spea king
every other         month or so
makes ‘filling in          the gaps’ about the big things
nec          essary.
I want to          tell the joke about the parrot,
how the kids       laughed and laughed when
they found the cu      cumber in the cutlery drawer. And
about who         did it in the drama with
Suranne Jones in      ves­ti­gat­ing murder
on the sub        marine.
I wish we could ta lk
about the Joan       and Jackie Collins documentaries.
How Joan cried every        day for three months
when her little sis ter
Jackie      died,
and how I cried     when Joan spoke about it.

Photo by Sydney Rae

This story orig­i­nal­ly appeared in Stonecoast Review Issue 19. Support local book­sellers and inde­pen­dent pub­lish­ers by order­ing a print copy of the mag­a­zine.