i no longer gauge the way
the sunlight hits
our circle of stones
the equinox
solstice
what glaciers wanted of the earth
and the empire’s chosen calendar
have long since ceased to matter
it is an act of self preservation
only the innocent bite on my breast
that became a blood blister scar
endures
but you
you sentimental fool
how you love your black anniversaries
taking comfort in maudlin ritual
thank you for leaving food outside the door
as an offering to the dead
then going away
your dirge autumnal
you know how i hate funeral flowers