On Turning Thirty

Your hair
was never noteworthy.  

A fast car
and long hair:
goals for thirty.
Two years to go.

Willing those forgettable carbon waves
to pass the breaker of your clavicles
and wash up against your back. 

Bound, they failed to wet your shoulders.

What would
the water of you
have shaped into

if the days of you  
soaked into your skin. 

Did I look away
when you brushed
your ambitions behind your ear?

Four days after candles we forgot to light.
Four days and a note you forgot to write.

You tried thirty on and returned it
with tags still attached.

I’ll remember you
at twenty-eight:

long hair
and a fast car
was all you needed.  

First Published in Arthropod Journal, Issue 1, Summer 2021.

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