Look at you, Blue Oleander
at the margins
of a birthday wish—
at seventeen, you were
the night’s favorite
sparkler,
and at twenty-seven,
the morning’s
favorite petal to kiss.
Look at you, Blue Oleander
at the margins
of a birthday wish—
at seventeen, you were
the night’s favorite
sparkler,
and at twenty-seven,
the morning’s
favorite petal to kiss.