An iced-lemon birthday cake
decorated with brown swirling letters.
You offered me a slice, but it was yours.
I would have none tonight—
no use in isolated celebrations of the sun
revolving round the earth once more.
It revolves; we evolve
Not Darwin, just compromise.
We change our delights to delight others,
left with a faded memory of the self,
like unholy grains of sand pouring through our fingers
…I met you in a dream the other night.
You stood at the gateway of another world,
the sky a fusion of crimson reds, startling pinks and
I watched from a creaking doorway
in a hue of sleepy greens and blues.
I woke to find you sleeping beside me,
recording haunted poetry behind your eyelids.
Stroking your cheek with delicate hands,
I wondered how and why we got here.
Our love flutters and stutters like a butterfly
—or maybe a homing pigeon.
It flies to different spaces only to return,
remembering its place of origin.