sister like winter
and as thinning
frost on the wing
invisible divination
of feathers
and age spreading
in a place of ravens
what is it in us
that says quiet
let the birds be abundant
and pick the hurt off the fields
no talk not even
when they come for you
sister: I am not your sun
nor am I a flicker of courage
in a world of men
so many truths laid to rest
because of the brokenness of the body
the hard mouth
ready to explain
or to be left with a tale
for the dying
sister: what is it in me
that has my name scrambled
my hands fallow
except for the lilies that rise
against the equinox
and consider me
Milla van der Have (1975) is a Gemini. Her poetry has appeared in Rust+Moth, Bird’s Thumb, and Heartwood, among others. She is the author of Ghosts of Old Virginny (Aldrich Press, 2015), a chapbook about Virginia City, Nevada. Milla lives in the Netherlands with her wife and two rabbits.