Michelle's Birthday Song


her house is the universe,

her friends are stars



but a satellite,

careening through the vacuum

pushing the blackness farther

into their pockets

into their sockets

into their hollow mouths

into the crack

of her own tired smirk


silence is her song for the evening,

not the love of danger

or the glimmer of whiskey

Eyes in,

she wraps her skin

around the moon

She cradles it in her arms

and hums a tune,

through a cigarette.