Dear brothers,
I became a vampire to avoid 
brunch buffets and photography.

No, I have nothing against
the sunlight-- 
in fact it's the thing
I miss most about
being human-- 
--other than you
of course--

I collect
rays from my window 
using the bouquet of
triangle prisms you left for me.
--Unfurl them to grow sunflowers
under a new moon. I pretend
I'm nothing but my brother's shadow
that he chases at recess-- fade in
between shrugging elm trees--
I wonder who will tell him
his sister resolved to 
become a vampire--

I tan this skin pale
by lunar sun dance and have no need
for mittens or coat pockets
-- I drink blood
of bird feeder blue jay and 
feed off innocent back porch
feral cats with paws of milk--
I collect pebbles to feel
less lonely-- because
their flesh is like my own--
no we're different now
and I don't want to be warm
plates or family portraits--

You tell me it was cowardly.
You tell me it was selfish suicide
to become a vampire
but I became this for 
both me and you--

You know I wasn't buffet
blooded like the rest of you
-- and what else would
that leave us with? Arrange me
on a plate and I'll be the edible 
flower--I'll be the fork and the spoon
if you'll be cilantro and 
planks of wheat toast-- let's scrape
jelly from our hair--
I never trusted the size of buffet plates 
and I don't believe in dessert tables--
they have always wanted to carve 
me in slices of a heat-lamp brisket--
take pictures of me in a Sunday dress
all freckle-punctured and napkin
on my lap like a trampoline
or a blue jay belly--
You know I love pancakes-- but
I'm scared of getting trapped
between the layers-- scared
of them scrambling me
into the comforters of egg
whites and saliva of the yolk--

No one wanted to watch my skin
thin out and drip drip drip
from my skeleton 
like blue jay birthday candles or
like butter bricks perishing in
a skillet--

I didn't want to be your picture--
a freckle prick or sunflower--
Didn't want to know what a camera iris
could see in a girl-body 
who had resolved to melt--
no, no you won't watch me in another 
picture-- but you can still
peel me from out between the elm trees--
chase your shadow and wait for it to 
turn around and become
your sister-- can you forgive me 
for the feral cats? For the blue jays?
For the hands and elbows 
I traded for moon rocks--

I miss you here but at least 
I have stones-- and blood
doesn't taste like anything without
a tongue so I hope you eat pancakes
for me-- hold edible flowers
and play with them in your hair
before you eat them-- 

I still see you in every sunflower
I grow from my prisms
I still see you walk on the haunting 
smell of bacon from the diner up the street 
I still come to watch you play at
recess and take pictures of you
to fill my buffet plates--

I eat moon now-- I eat
love and I eat your shadow-- 
No you won't find me in the old pictures
you have to pull
me out from beneath the pancakes
cut me thin slices from 
brisket-- 

Oh! Forgive your anorexic 
vampire sister-- I just
wanted to escape the buffets 
and the photographs-- come back
for me and we'll eat cilantro and
walk to each other across
silhouetted planks of toast.