I can't move.
To move would be
To disrupt the conversation
In the other room
And I can't do that.

Because if I moved,
If I disturbed the phone call,
Then I would go all the way
To grabbing the mobile
With my own hand
And hanging up
On the abusive little-

That's harsh.
Maybe.
But to hear my sister,
The smaller and younger
Sometimes wiser one
That is not a mini me,
Sadly say,
"No one listens
To my opinions anyway,"
Pushes the limit
Of a sister's restraint.

Hypocrite.
Judge.
Stubbon.
Self-Righteous.
These words leap to mind
Like poison
Even as I recall a flash of oreos,
A swift giggle,
And down the stairs
To sleepless nights they go.

And it's too bad
This care and passion
The caller has
For animals,
The poor,
And Lord knows what else
Doesn't include my sister.