No use for these false profits gained through silver-tongued

snake oil lies

no use for a dimly perceived diminished ability to rise

without another well-meaning sister around to show me how

for a small fee

an energetic exchange paid

in full

right now.

I was born without any sisters.

I don’t need to rise up.

I already burn bright.

My head’s held high enough

and the luck of thieves has just as much to do with it–

that’s one thing no sister will tell you

because she won’t know in what way

she could ever manage to sell you

a stealing through shadows or one’s own

ancient blood claim

a whisper at dusk of your long-forgot name.

Don’t sell me the musk of a sex that has always been mine.

Don’t sell me the self which I’ve already defined.

I do not need your healing for I never was sick.

I am the bastard of vagrants.

I have my own tricks.

 

–k.b. 10102017