Birthday Myth

She is the muse and the spirit
and today is her day;

To be remembered
through the boundless echo of time
as a day of magnolia razorblades
embedded in effigial wicker girls
who burn away their loneliness;

To be written
in scattered periods
and tattered tattoo sigils
as living testament
to her long-suffering anonymity
among her flora. 

To be celebrated
like the sacred forgotten pagan rituals
in the darkest spring of the equinox,
preparing for the long scorching summer
with coital friction to whip souls torridly
across the cloudscapes and constellations
of our endless potential futures.

Today will be remembered,
for today, she exists.