We stuck eight candles in a cake, we three
carried melting wax and wick burning down.
And we split our faces smiling, singing
to avoid seeing how our shadows danced.
We carried candles in cake burning down,
eyes on each other, staring too long
to avoid seeing how our shadows danced
for us: cast thin limbed and flint skinned, fading.
Eyes bent on each other we staggered down
grasped hands out for the others, measuring
our thin limbs for weakness, checking flint faces
to make our celebrating seem earnest.
We measured our reach in slices, in candles
we three stuck, my saccharine friends
celebrating being seen, burning earnest.
We split our faces smiling, shouting.