The two sisters lie there in the dark,
beneath the pear tree. The boy
stands over them, his skinny arms
crossed protectively below his chest.
One of the sisters raises an arm,
but not as if to ask for help to rise.
A night as beautiful, but tinny, as
a minor chord struck on a dulcimer.
One sister, the one fully clothed,
sleeps. The other, the naked one,
gazes up at him. Her arm so long,
he thinks, enough to reach the stars.
And then the fingers spread, her
palm whitening a little in the silence.