The Language of Sisterhood

And there's no decoder ring!

Sisters speak
a secret 
language.

A universal fact,
shaped 
by each set’s 
familial dialect.

It’s automatic
and telepathic,
smart and 
razor sharp.

A certain glance
and that’s it,
forget it.

A nod,
a raised eyebrow,
a scowl.
Don’t even ask,
they just know,
way before 
you, brothers.

A shrug,
a wince,
rolled shoulders.

That’s right,
move aside!

A whispered reference
to someone you vaguely remember,
a hushed utterance 
about a long-ago gathering
at some distance place.
Crystal clear 
to them.
 

Entire conversations
pass through 
their eyes,
silent words 
no one else 
recognizes.

i.e., femfee
and fifee,
that being any piece of fuzz
and their beloved 
other, respectively.

There are quiet
half sentences
and easy smiles,
an arm around
a shoulder, 
a hand on a hip.

Next thing
they’re humming 
a favorite tune, 
spontaneously
swaying, 
feeling the groove.

Eyes so alive,
sending clear signals,
catching their signs,
no vowels, no consonants.
Just sensing
and understanding 
their sisterhood.

No surprise, 
each knows
'she's loved me
since the first time
she looked 
at me.'