
birthdays
Listen to Podcast
the waves beneath the pier
distort my face like broken mirrors
I look for her through splitting shards of fallen time
my eyes aim down;
stretch; squint; search
reach out in seeking spotlights
my sight sinks forward until I find her image
my mind grabs wild through warped wood gaps
where she appears
I see the face I once reflected
I see the girl who proudly wore my name
its letters dressed in childhood scribbles
a written sign of a surer self
an age held tight on a bright round badge
a gift she dropped
and left behind
to lie in camouflage of burst balloons
her face changed with the way she wore her name
today her badge is a piss-up passport
a number used for proof instead of honour
it gifts a crumpled wrist-worn tag
a paper bracelet used until expired
and left behind
to lie in camouflage of burst balloons
