This week, a poem by Joni Renee Whitworth.

 

In my Sister’s Image

G?d created me in my sister’s image to do my hair manually, daily and nightly with the same pajamas. It was brave of you to arrive. With atypical gestures, I whispered, “Today.” In crafted tones, in our long-distance telephone conversations, I was the knife set salesman — aggressive, self-injurious — and you, the friendly name at the end of an electric road. I have seen your name in lights, with big lit arrows blinking me your way, as deeply ingrained as the motion for breathing. I am a full natural woman in your gaze. This is an ancient ritual, me, delivering blueberries to your doorstep.

——

JONI RENEE WHITWORTH is an artist and writer from rural Oregon. She has performed at The Moth, the Segerstrom Center for the Performing Arts, the MacLaren Youth Correctional Facility in partnership with the Morpheus Youth Project, and the Museum of Contemporary Art with Marina Abramovic.



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