a sisterly kiss as we crossed the threshold: real names
were left at the door in a linen gym bag and forgotten
between Phys Ed and lunch.
leathered necks, girlish natures - someone welded
these together to break the usual code, access officially lost.
we were supposed to be minors in our flapping shorts, parroting idiom
with clipped insect breath, while marked at gym and hurdles.
beneath the skin's sun-woven blanket we kept all pains locked up
until plants with glossy stems emerged
pushing through the sound barrier of our wallflower mouths,
filtering word for word an idiom that was now
a skilful alibi

translated by Gig Ryan