Sister Tongue / زبان خواهر

When I am a little girl I learn to feel the space between me and my twin sister as if it is an atomic bond and we are ions— the relative connection only shifts by push and pull. Our peeling apart is a chemical surprise. Each split is innocent. She is never mean by leaving, but she is easily bored by the games I spend hours with— jigsaw puzzles and every variation on the dictionary game I can think of. I fall blind into the trap of believing I can keep her here. I feel unreal when her energy lessens, when the gleam of her laughter casts distracted off our table. Later, every time my lover’s attention drifts, I reach for my sister’s arm to keep her here, clutch my reflection in a mirror, sit it down next to me and feel the space between us strangle into stasis. She turns away and shines her light on our mirror, refracts back