My sister was five.
She smiled so polite.
Then poisoned my water
one Wednesday night.
She squashed a mosquito,
plopped it on orange with flair,
said sweetly, “Eat up-
you need energy, I care.”
We called her Belladonna,
lovingly true-
now my little bro spikes her juice too.
Call him Oleander,
they’re matching, I fear,
wild kids, wild karma…
woe is me, I’m the sane one here.