Sisters · Shana Ritter

I have two daughters.

One has eyes dark
as a cave's pool,
rich as chocolate cake.
The other's are flecked
with auburn gold
the way a rock slicked
with rain looks in the sun.
There are forests within them,
walnut and redwood.

This morning they asked
for fancy music and danced
on the smoke grey carpet
They danced in and out
of each others' steps
over and under spinning arms
their small strong bodies twirling,
fingertips brushing together.

Together they could twist their arms
into vines weaving a chair strong
enough to hold anyone they choose.
They would rock them, back and forth,
while one laughs with the arc of the swing,
and the other measures movement in the air.