it is your almost birthday. you are reading richard siken,
which is to say you are homosexual & panicked by your
existence. you have ice cream for breakfast & cry into
the evening. you tell your mother im sorry, ill pay you
back. im sorry, ill clean up the mess. you tell your mother
im sorry you spent all that time carbonating me inside
yourself just for me to end up the way i am. which is an
apology for being homosexual & panicked. the other
you is crouched in the corner. teeth grow in places you
would not expect teeth to be. the other you is all bite
because he knows you have nothing to mourn. it is your
almost birthday. you’re so polite with your sadness. you
don’t want to ruin this for anyone. you’re good at that.
your crumpled body. your anxiety vomited out like
confetti. your eyes weeping like split oranges. you are
going to be 20 & you are going to be a wailing asteroid
for the rest of your life. 2 years ago you were supposed
to be dead. you have outgrown your gender & your
jeans. you tell your mother im sorry, i love my sadness
so immensely, i don’t know who i am without it & what
you mean is i have not come home without expecting
someone else to be in my spot at the dinner table in so
long, im not sure i was ever born to belong in the first
place.