Now that their prettier sisters
have been sent off to better
benefactors, the plaster molds
founder among floorboards.
They make no sense out of context,
lacking the clavicle necklace,
razor-clam cheekbones. The hollow
pendant, the sense of purpose.
 
My sister, I wonder what you made of me
when like an egg I broke as you emerged.
Apart from you now, I hold like a geode,
baring crystalline teeth, a gaping caverna.
Can’t you see the plaster scraps across my floor
are merely the breakage borne of my tensile strength.