Months have been named after
girls who broke my heart, four whole weeks
a year birthed in the honor of those who
should have never been born
delivered in my heart like a box of fireworks –

I half-learn foreign languages to believe that
there is no such thing as remembrance
and so her name is different
than each fourth month, the one of showers.

Cometh no flowers or forgiveness
enough to forget, just new words for old pain.