top of page

birthday poem / ON THE KNIFE’S EDGE OF ANOTHER YEAR




I don a 90 cent Party City hat & / far too many layers, M scolds.

A sweater miscarriage of / teeth, the tardy slip / of a night sky. We

trample / freshman year quadratics to get in the car. Every street

begs my side-view to have a / Good Night, Hot Stuff! I draft a hasty

love letter to search engines: How to convince myself that I remembered

to turn off the stove at home? On a bad day, even? Parabolas reorient

birds-eye maps / where my warped-fuckery jawline snags her teeth / on

the rearview mirror; M gradients around front / passenger seat to reintroduce

her canine / to my collar. Upon arrival, I consider the half-chewed wool

of my outer cuff & / readdress Google: Am I allowed to cry when I turn the

age of someone who hurt me? Worse than hurt, even?— No Wifi

Password, Dumbass, they / respond. M drags me out & deals me

half a hand / of Uno. After last summer, I am no longer allowed / two limbs

as two limbs equivocates / a tree / equivocates / a weakened branch / equivocates

/ Safari, I fear my own body, / equivocates a Danger To Others / Myself,

even. Vertexes move graph lines around / their centres of gravity on the

dance floor, spades-slivered & scarless. It’s late / enough for all the dead

sheep to mean anything. After this fall, everything is in crisp

Times New Roman / & everyone yells Fuck Finals Hallelujah We’ve

survived. And all the party-goers— nonstatistical labors of love,

Firefox: How do I get glitter out of my monolids— keep

on celebrating / for me to live another season, so I do, I really

promise / I do.



62 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Comments


bottom of page