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Phoebeebeebee, Phoebalicious, Phoebershire,
your name invites my tongue up on trapezes.


I watch as you fly onto the dusty family mantelpiece
sparkle it up, a diamante in our midst, a stud on your nose.


Have I ever thanked you for that generosity?
For your willingness to emit light even in adverse conditions?


You volunteer to play the Liverpudlian cauliflower on stage
and I wonder how you learned to eschew ego so young.


We make plans and you are the gooey cake mixture
fitting in, flowing around sharper edges like mine.


Little sister
have I ever thanked for when you act like the bigger one?


White-skinned, straw-haired, blue-eyed, strong-calved Viking girl
field mice at your feet, a yellow canary on your shoulder.




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