Christmas Memories of my Sister

I remember

sticky sap and sharp needles,

bending wires for ornaments,

and bubbly lights.

 

I remember you

picking up our angel

and lifting her high, higher

and higher still.

 

I remember

handmade stockings filled with nuts

pushed aside for sweeter treats

like Snickers Bars.

 

I remember you

there on the living room floor

slapping on neon bracelets,

singing so loud.

 

I remember

cold breaths slipping from my lips,

unfurling cigarette smoke,

gentle and soft.

 

I remember you

telling me I should not smoke,

it’ll make a hole in my neck

that’s just like hers.

 

I remember

failed snowmen caked with mud,

dripping dignity and rocks

around the door.

 

I remember you

picking splinters from your feet

tweezing out the strands of wood

that formed the floor

formed the tree

that held the house

that held the memories

that I can’t forget

and can’t seem to remember.

 

The way it was

was not so clean,

not so happy,

not so perfect.

 

But it was for us.