This one is sentimental
but if I name it hard
you’ll know it’s like us
from the mountains
and from mysteries
greater than ourselves
our stories in whispers
and shared glances
the singing sisters
all radio shows ruined
by eye contact
erupting into laughter
the air teeming with secrets
inaudible but distracting 
they could not contain us then
they could not contain us now
with our minds full of insolence
and our pockets full of coal.