We skip through woods,

Scraped knees down a dirt path,

Play wedding with twisted twigs

For rings and altars of pine bark

Sticky with sap.

We play bride in little girl bodies

Between regatta and swimming,

The procession of the day laid out

In neat little hours, boxes checked,

Holding ghost hands.

We climb log fortresses and slide

Down zip lines through treetops

Until the bugs evening bite and

I wonder if the same mosquito

Tastes us three, does it make us

Sisters?