Rebecca

Biddenham Maids

I spent 360 minutes of my life alone,

We were born fused together, shoulders and hips entwined.

A wedding ring, where I ended and she began only god knew,

No natural boundaries defined our borders,

We were forever each others’ pockets.

 

Mary was the hot end of the match. Jittery, sparky, even moving in her sleep.

Her burning ankle would wake me up. Her sour breath on my cheek, like a butterfly’s antenna itched.

Blankets pulled taught, left to right, right to left. All through the night like the pendulum of a clock.

Mary had blazing eyes that even the gardeners noticed. A shard of glass in the hot sun could not burn brighter. Me, a mildewy log, a bog, an open sore, stinking and raw. An annexation, a withered arm, a piece of bacon rind, followed beside.

 

Her cut-glass face turned towards the world each morning and away from our darkness.

Only I could feel her uneasy heart hammering behind our chest.

She wanted me off, but it could not be done without the risk of death to us both.

“What god has joined together, let no man put asunder”, my mother said.

“Then let death be the option” her screamed reply,

And in the end, it was.

 

34 times we danced around the sun, four feet in perfect unison,

And then, my hot sizzling sister began to thaw,

She shivered and pulsated beside me in bed, as I grasped her sweaty hand across our middle,

She was going to take her leave, whether I liked it or not.

 

And then she was cold, a heavy weight pulling me down. I could not get up from our bed. I could not look to my right.

I was told to have her removed, like a piece of spoiled meat, the darkness would spread.

“As we came together, we shall go together”, was my reply.

She would not have her wish, after all.

 

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