She’s meant to be good
with words, used to medicating others
with a timely postcard — FABULOUS WOMAN YOU!
Today she can’t find it in herself to buy,
let alone send, A SISTER IS WORTH A THOUSAND FRIENDS.
If only she knew the right phrase,
the sort other people have stored in their mouths,
like a kindly tongue.
   Cards as commands,
white and black shouts on a carousel,
IT’S CHOCOLATE O’CLOCK
The shopkeeper can’t find it in herself
to say good morning, even in lower case,
as she heaves her cleavage about by the till.
Maybe these cards aren’t even meant
for other people, just something to tack above your screen
YOU MAKE ME PROUD or I LOVE MYSELF
instead of explaining, in another language,
what you think of your boss,
his love of himself.
   She still doesn’t know what to send,
what to say, as if sweet-sweet words on an angel,
LOVE on a butterfly or a pale heart from China
could keep her sister from harm.