TWELFTH BIRTHDAY

As if because you lay (deeply embarrassing) inside my body, I could (inconceivable) follow your swift thoughts into their blue immersion even now, stilettoes flickering, or schools of fish maneuvering, first clear and then occluded, though now and then a piercing gleam cuts through; as if the snow reflections that glaze the winter afternoon to porcelain could penetrate the secrets of a skull that happens to have lodged (improbable) inside me once. Your liberation twelve years ago today is the occasion you and your friends are celebrating now behind a door that’s firmly shut. The fantasy you’ve lately been devouring features an evil mage with hourglass eyes. Last week, when you were furious at me (I must have thrown some precious thing away), you swiftly slipped into your parents’ room and turned the bedside clock an hour ahead. Discovered as the culprit, wickedly you smiled. You knew time was my enemy.