There was a bow,
On a hook,
By the door,
By the green door.
It was a ribbon of red silk
I was not afraid,
I saw your white skin,
In the surf  
Under the grey sky.
Why am I writing these words?
I didn’t want it to happen,
I didn’t want my life misshapen,
I didn’t want another sister
To replace her,
But there was a bow,
On the hook
By the door,
By the red door.
She unravelled the ribbon of red silk;
She held it tight between both hands
Across her mouth.
I saw the fold of skin behind her ear,
It was too late;
She had gone.
That is why I write as I do;
To tell the truth.
To say categorically,
I am not your brother,
I will not be your brother,
I never was your brother,
I long to touch you.
And so I say these words of love
To reach out,
To touch you.
There.