"Rockin' Robin"
We teased her like
Only sisters do . . .
To that of a popular song.
We placed a coin in the jukebox
and giggled over
our greasy diner eggs
-Robin's eggs
Lower middle class
Treats and memories
This was our identity.

The name printed bluntly
Like a mugshot sign
on a black and white photo.
A Mona Lisa woman
In traditional Native American dress
With a Penobscot feather
Sitting for a Maine portrait
-ungentrified, unaffected

I stare at the photo of a photo.
My father's family tracing
The tortuous paths of the past
To reveal our ancesters
Slept with anyone who asked.
We weren't the "stick to your own kind" type;
Only wild and windy
With our wiles.

The woman in the photo . . .
A time traveled reflection
Of my sister - "Rockin' Robin"
The robin in the grass come springtime.
My sister who lost her teeth, her ambitions,
-her identity
Her Mona Lisa smirk
Hiding something,
As if asking
Who am I?
Where do I belong?
Biding time until
The egg hatches.
And we all know
Who comes first.

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