By Lauren Salvo

Some call me the beginning,
and some call me the end.
My sunsets appear on your
way home from work.
Coffee warms your body
in the slow frost of my mornings.
Your mother and father were born
on my fourth day fifty-eight years ago.
And now you don’t know whether you
should celebrate or mourn,
remembering the accident
that took your father's life.
You spend my days waiting
for letters that may never come;
and wondering if you will get that job you
have always dreamed of.
You lay making lists of to-dos you
may never get done.
Next month, you plan to tell
your lover you are ready for the next step.
Your wishes are different now that it
is no longer last year.
It is time for you to leave your ******
apartment where the broken heater
doesn’t keep you warm during my thirty-one days.
It is time for you to learn to love me.