Unbeknown to her, she was the other daughter.
The clairvoyant said she was born of water.
“Your beauty is your saving grace,
for so admired is your cherub-face.”
“My dear child, hold my hand close to you,
& see here, a young girl; veiled in black.
Worshipping the moon, beside a wolf pack.”
“For you, are celebrating a Lunar New Year,
requesting the spirits, my dear
beholding the Universe in the palm
of your hands. In the shadows, a silhouette
is walking towards you; a woman of a quintet.”
"You hear the piercing tone of a shawm,
a choir of voices & women barefooted
whose anklets ****** as a ritual dance
begins. But you stay. A statuette in stance."
© Sia Jane
Written in the form of David Lehman, "The Matador of Metaphor" - 16 lines and the same rhyme scheme.