“Married to My Years” [Poem]

For my birthday, I wrote myself a sonnet.

“Married to My Years”
Outside the bar, the street is strewn with blooms
Of lamplight. Litter flutters from the hands
Of trash receptacles. Alleys like tombs
Surprise the picture and suggest a man’s
Absorption of my name. But there’s no man
Except the taxi driver, whom I call
After the birthday party so I can
Think of the vows my name still holds and all
The promises still written on my face.
It’s time. Here is my church. All I can do
Is step, breath quaking, toward the life that waits.
The city dresses me in neon blue.
I am the something old and something new.
My time’s the thing that’s borrowed. Yes. I do.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s