not directly

'not much of a girl'
is how I would apply it

undrifting and coarse
I lack the interest.

underneath
I find something in me
unafraid.

though something
of a girl is left in me
between the
softening edges

birthday

another brittle tally
to throw in the small bonfire
of years

another claim to age
when these numbers
mean less and less

only shoving through a field
of scattered figures and
abandoned politics

knowing how soon
the idea
loosens it's thin charms
and tightens this untold grip.

as I stand abstract