Birthday

I baked a cake. It collapsed,
crumbled
in fragrant quarters.
The frosting slicked
in the heat.
I picked a fly
from the crumbs.
Do you feign
your innocence?
Last night
you slept. I listened
to your heart
striking warm blows
as you fell
deeper within yourself.

 


Sophie Johnson lives in Lincoln, Nebraska. When she isn’t writing, she is painting.


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