A Birthday Song

Today I was meant
to be in your home—

you blowing out candles
in celebration
& regret,

squeezing your branches
to comfort.

I was to be
in your bed,
holding the dinner bell
of your laughter
in my palm
& petting you like
an endangered species—

snow leopard
or jungle-born dove.

I fell in love with
your fearlessness—

driving all night
alone with the scent
of midnight freedom
& breathing it like

pure oxygen.

I would have cracked
down the side
like an ancient Roman pillar.

This morning
my feet are so cold
they feel wet—
reminding me we were
going to stand beside
every ocean,

hands grazing like
nervous teenagers
in the hallway,

lips touching with
feather-weight.

I wonder about the facts
of positive thinking
& if we'll change,

but mostly I think about
being absent from you
& how it's like missing
an eclipse—
the inherent sadness
in not seeing something

so powerful.