Missed Your Birthday
(for Marissa Amador)
The year I missed your birthday was a year
of ever-grave responsibility.
My age went through my liver like a spear–
and my heart got the point: no fun for me.
The congress of my cells rushed to agree
that life was leaden where cells dared to meet.
Your absence was a dreadful sight to see.
The wine of my existence wasn’t sweet–
and I was forced to drink the dregs. Complete
as anything that’s full, my emptiness
pretty much burst my shell. Cold burned like heat.
I, a year older too, found more was less.
Come next year, maybe? Sure, lass: that I’ll do!
A year from now you’ll be — what? 22?
30 Sept. 2014