Featured Poet: lyn lifshin

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ON MY SISTER'S BIRTHDAY I hear Delilah's dead. Delilah- I almost wrote "delete" because everything delighted her. It can't be Delilah who beat advanced stomach cancer, delighted in everything that grew my tangerine blossoms. This woman who brought me special herb tea for sleep. She sang polishing the dresser, arranging my barrettes in a new pattern each time. Delilah singing a song of her home, telling me of the flowers in Guatemala, the fruits sweeter than anything here. I think of her daughter, the dog she adored, but mostly her laugh, husky and bell like at the same time with a little giggle. "Any body home" almost a song I won't hear ever. Gone. Over as any touch from my sister _____________________