Birthday
Poem
Birthdays are like playground merry-go-rounds
the kind with diamond plate decking sprouting
galvanized octopi spokes to entangle
arms and legs, relentless in their desire
to send you to the emergency room
broken and bloodied, a dark fear I was
helpless not to entertain when I should
have been committing every downy hair
on the curve of your cheek to memory
as you came round again and again and again
as you came round again and again and again
commanding me to make it go faster
while I silently willed the blur slow, slower.
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