My sisters hand I hold to walk a while
her name is lost, as mine is soon to be,
our feet so miniscule but yet reviled
a proud oppression bound in artistry.
Remembering the pain of melting bones,
when all we did was lay on rattan mats,
our girlish fantasies were forged in stone
to wed with either rabbit or a rat.
We lent upon each others shaky arms
our strength collaborated on a fan
until we came of age and subtle charms
two sisters love divided by a man.
For all we shared beneath our silken sheet
dictated by the size of bandaged feet.
Written for Dverse poetry pub’s open form night, come and join me in a g and t 😀