On Birthdays, She Wears Red

Amy L. Greenspan

October 15, 2022

A 90th birthday arrives,

unseen by the woman in red,

who once greeted this day with delight

and predictions of terrible weather.

Unseen by the woman in red,

our names fall through brain holes,

and predictions of terrible weather

repeat in looping cycles.

Our names fall through brain holes,

and words (“Where’s the time gone?”)

repeat in looping cycles,

meaning sucked into the void.

And words (“Where’s the time gone?”)

let us pretend normalcy.

Meaning sucked into the void,

we gather, celebrate the day.

Let’s pretend normalcy!

Ice cream, presents, cake!

We gather, celebrate the day

a 90th birthday arrives.

Amy L. Greenspan spent much of her career as Managing Editor for a legal publishing company. Her poems appear in multiple editions of the Texas Poetry Calendar, as well as collections including Weaving the Terrain: 100-Word Southwestern Poems, Lifting the Sky: Southwestern Haiku and Haiga, di-verse-city, cattails, and Haiku Presence.