Birthday Poem Poem by R. Absalom Catarata

wrinkles were not worn once in this same day
when mind was yet at fall and seed was dormant
womb was a waiting church innocent and silent
there sow the good sex let code be given
death was dead yet fat and easy as he lied
on the wet streets of october

how shall you reckon but wait
by beat of heart and hands by strike of feet
by lose of flesh and dropp of meat

and how shall you resist but hold
the same friends and flesh

may it long be served to your bones
the compulsory breath that was at birth
twenty-one years ago

all cry's been heard echoes multiplied
and today your fingers are still counting:
wrinkles shant be worn in this same day
may you smile and wrinkle to remember