decades

when we lived on main street
my uncle told me that
eventually i would be 
one decade old & 
i was scared
because i didn't want to
wake up one day & 
feel different-- 
i used
to wait up till midnight on
birthdays-- watch the 
digital clock brand
each minute into the night--
hot irrevocable numbers--
i put my hand up
to the minutes & let 
the heat char my skin--
each minute a burn-- 
in the morning i would
go down to the pink
tile bathroom & wrap my hand in 
toilet paper so no one would
be able to see what time had done to
me--
i was turning seven--
like we all were--
i looked out my bedroom window 
& wondered if the world would 
look the same if i were to 
let myself fall 
asleep in the body
of a six year old & wake
up seven--maybe i would see
new colors like the butterflies 
or maybe all the changes
happened when you turned ten
-- i waited for
the moon to become a paper plate
& i sat out by the back porch light
in a merry-go-round of lightning bugs
& cicada folk songs--
i picked the moon off the table cloth of
stars & filled it with
fruit salad & birthday cake--
a dinner & a midnight snack & 
a breakfast--
i like to eat alone & my birthday is
no exception--
i always take a corner piece of
cake to get the most icing--
a red buttercream rose
stains my mouth & i kiss
the moon with pink lemonade lips
before i put it back into
the sky to hold another little girl's 
birthday cake--
still scared to fall asleep & 
wake up different
i wonder if people still count birthdays
after they're a whole decade old--
i light one blue candle & blow
it out-- i can't tell you what
i wished for or it won't come true--
i'm not the only one still expecting 
the wishes i made on thin dollar store
candles--
there are certain types
of magic that take time-- blue
birthday candles-- the bloom of 
butter cream roses-- the hot
kisses on the face of
the moon & the changes you 
don't notice as you wake
suddenly a year older--
the cicadas sing a 
happy birthday & it is you
who has to light
each star & blow it out again--