Our parents loved excess and everyone knew:
all the toothless old ladies in town, aware of the weight
of our clinking trash. Today, I live in a one-room apartment
the size of a book. And where is my sister? Hungary,
Singapore, some city where English acts as a second tongue.
Her smile remains unblemished as resume paper. Last month,
the hygienist, tow-headed as we were as children, pored
over my x-rays and, aghast, asked, what happened?