Seven Haiku

My sister mirror
is a chrome metal header
with two tots in tow.

She is the biker
while I am the passenger
looking out windows.

She travels alone
into the Peruvian
jungles of fire.

I dream in the south’s
stickiness of tragedy
with broken women.

Yet, I’m not a twig
torn from the tree of mothers.
I am my own branch.

I reside at home
as a perch for other birds
to preen before flight.

My sister mirror
is easy to look into
and see my beauty.

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