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January 3, 2015

would have been

his birthday, 2

days after New Year’s,

the day of the blizzard

named for the Greek hero,

his 12 labors

of redemption,

1 year after

the divorce, 10 years

since the affair, 3

years since we’ve

spoken, 3 years

since the first poem

and there have been

poems and will be

poems but no

father, today, of the 52

would-be birthday

candles, after 3

trips to the hospital,

5 stitches in the

chest, 1 heartbeat

gone dumb, 1 hearse,

3 limos, 52

roses for the grave,

no cake, no

celebration, but candles,

52 candles, these

52 small fires, 1

body, 1 wooden

box: kindling.

from ErouFind more by Maya Phillips at the library

Copyright © 2019 Maya Phillips
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of Four Way Books.

Published in Maya Phillips Poems

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this (publication, website, exhibit, etc.) do not necessarily represent those of the Idaho Humanities Council or the National Endowment for the Humanities.