Lips pursed like a vicar
lips pursed like a bank manager
lips pursed like an architect
lips pressed together.
Wearing pearl earrings as a warning
and bobby pins as a threat
her sister, beside her on the escalator
ears held on with clip-ons
head held together with kirby grips.
Sister, shut mouth like a cutlery drawer
eyes down like an angle poise
mouth closed like a library
blinds down like a lock-in.
The first, the youngest, stubborn as dirt
the second, the eldest, waiting like a patient
tired, reaches for a joke
Because you can’t tickle your sister
on the platform at rush hour.
“Did mum tell you about the launderette?
it was the very worst story ever,
and she laughed for half an hour”
and they laughed for half an hour.