Siblings

I could not, for the life of me, understand
why Genesis moved so soon to murder—
to fratricide. But then I had kids,
and now I know it to be at least as true 
as what happened in the garden. 

How quickly we skip
from It’s pretty to I want it to It’s mine. 
How quickly we turn from
I’m unhappy to I hate you
to I wish you were dead.

When his baby sister was born,
my oldest would look at me holding her,
and a shiver, like an electric current, 
would run up through his trunk, 
shaking his little arms and fists.