your birthday

got up this morning with her hair in
knots. so you sat her on the bedroom floor
& found the big brush with the bristles &
tugged until her hair bloomed like a handful
of clovers. take her to the coffee shop
even though she won't get anything,
point out the window at clouds to keep 
her attention, you know her. you know
she'll try & get away again. if she's good
at the super market buy her the neon candles--
the ones that have purple & blue & green flames.
buy her more than one box. ask her how
old she is-- seventeen, fourteen, ten, nine--
don't tell her to pick one-- just nod &
write the numbers on the sheet cake. 
there was a few years were we'd blend boxed
cake mixes-- funfetti & devil's food in 
the brownie tray. her skin freckles with 
confetti, convince her she's not sick--
just full of too much sugar. she follows
you into the shower but you have to keep
an eye on her & you show her where to 
wash to scrub out the bruises-- 
the peppermint scented soap-- she lathers 
herself into whipped cream. as you dry her
she asks what happened to your face & you
lie & tell her that when you reach your 
20th birthday that sometimes you get
fed up with being a girl. she touches
the stubble on your neck-- still damp
from the shower. you tell her to pull
up a sleeping bag on the floor by your
bed like your parents used to do when you
had a nightmare. she clutches an old
stuffed elephant to her chest & she
counts backwards from one-hundred 
to fall asleep. even though it's just
in her head you can hear it & it seems
to get louder & louder-- the windows pounding
with each number. she keeps losing track
around the number eighty. when the numbers 
stop you light the neon candles &
set them into her forehead. you apologize,
of course, it's not easy to be a birthday.
you lock the door so she won't leave. 
you can't let her leave. she won't
do well out there. at the end of the bed 
you read the book of saints because 
it's supposed to help you sleep.
the bed becomes frosting, a sheet cake
with the ends eaten off by your father--
the food dye turning the whole room blue.
you wake your birthday up when you shout,
she asks you what's wrong. the room
goes back to normal & she plucks 
the candles out of her skin. she hands them
to you & says 
another day, another day.