We skip through woods,
Scraped knees down a dirt path,
Play wedding with twisted twigs
For rings and altars of pine bark
Sticky with sap.
We play bride in little girl bodies
Between regatta and swimming,
The procession of the day laid out
In neat little hours, boxes checked,
Holding ghost hands.
We climb log fortresses and slide
Down zip lines through treetops
Until the bugs evening bite and
I wonder if the same mosquito
Tastes us three, does it make us
Sisters?