Our cheek bones do not match.
Our faces do not resemble each other.
She does not share the same love for
the outdoors that I do.

But,
it really is easy to tell that we are in fact brother
and sister.
I know.
I know because when I tell her
I cant fall asleep with beer still left in an open can
she gets it.
In fact she laughs
and says
you do that too!?

I know she is my sister because
we have the same sleepy mother.
The mother that napped too much
when we were younger.
The mother that successfully slept away suicide.
The mother that ensured we lost the genetic lottery.

I know she is my sister because
she knows dark days.
Days that don’t seem to start
or end.
Days that at times
make you regret promising that
I would never do it.
Dark days that we intimately share.

I know she is my sister because
when she looked at me with
wet childhood in her eyes
and whispered
you do not owe him anything
that she spoke from experience.
She sympathizes that you can not choose your family,
but sometimes
your family can choose
you.  

I know she is my sister because
of her beauty.
Beauty that is powerful.
Beauty that does not dull with pain
but grows as it survives.
Beauty that does not resemble a flower
but a hurricane.

It would be impossible to tell just
by looking at us that we are related.
But it is impossible to forget once you know.