Nemesis
1.
Dark sister
I dread
like a trap
door, outsider
beyond
all good breeding
and common
sense, she knows
I listen: her satin
thighs slide
over horsehair as she
sidles closer.
Her scent?
The scorch after
lightning strikes.
2.
Who else would dare
twit the Old Man
when he thunders Let
There be Light? Nothing
doing, she teases
him. She’s been
around. She knows
what’s coming. “Star-
dust,” she whistles
as she files
her crimson nails,
making me wait
for the entrance
she wants, loving stealth
and the winding
way down
the dark stair
well on tip toe.